“Yes, Ken.  You’ve nothing to say about your belongings just now.  But if you object to this plan—­”

“I don’t.  The girl must be found, and her father is more likely to find her than a dozen other searchers.  He shall have the rig and welcome.”

So it was that Will Rogers drove back to his heartbroken wife in a smart top-buggy, with twenty dollars in his pocket and a heart full of wonder and thanksgiving.

CHAPTER X

THE FORGED CHECK

Kenneth and Beth refrained from telling the other girls or Uncle John of old Will Rogers’s visit, but they got Mr. Watson in the library and questioned him closely about the penalty for forging a check.

It was a serious crime indeed, Mr. Watson told them, and Tom Gates bade fair to serve a lengthy term in state’s prison as a consequence of his rash act.

“But it was a generous act, too,” said Beth.

“I can’t see it in that light,” said the old lawyer.  “It was a deliberate theft from his employers to protect a girl he loved.  I do not doubt the girl was unjustly accused.  The Squierses are a selfish, hard-fisted lot, and the old lady, especially, is a well known virago.  But they could not have proven a case against Lucy, if she was innocent, and all their threats of arresting her were probably mere bluff.  So this boy was doubly foolish in ruining himself to get sixty dollars to pay an unjust demand.”

“He was soft-hearted and impetuous,” said Beth; “and, being in love, he didn’t stop to count the cost.”

“That is no excuse, my dear,” declared Mr. Watson.  “Indeed there is never an excuse for crime.  The young man is guilty, and he must suffer the penalty.”

“Is there no way to save him?” asked Kenneth.

“If the prosecution were withdrawn and the case settled with the victim of the forged check, then the young man would be allowed his freedom.  But under the circumstances I doubt if such an arrangement could be made.”

“We’re going to try it, anyhow,” was the prompt decision.

So as soon as breakfast was over the next morning Beth and Kenneth took one of the automobiles, the boy consenting unwillingly to this sort of locomotion because it would save much time.  Fairview was twelve miles away, but by ten o’clock they drew up at the county jail.

They were received in the little office by a man named Markham, who was the jailer.  He was a round-faced, respectable appearing fellow, but his mood was distinctly unsociable.

“Want to see Tom Gates, eh?  Well! what for?” he demanded.

“We wish to talk with him,” answered Kenneth.

“Talk! what’s the good?  You’re no friend of Tom Gates.  I can’t be bothered this way, anyhow.”

“I am Kenneth Forbes, of Elmhurst.  I’m running for Representative on the Republican ticket,” said Kenneth, quietly.

“Oh, say! that’s different,” observed Markham, altering his demeanor.  “You mustn’t mind my being gruff and grumpy, Mr. Forbes.  I’ve just stopped smoking a few days ago, and it’s got on my nerves something awful!”