“Nor will I forget you, Uncle Sam,” said Tavia with something like real sentiment in her voice.  “I am glad I got lost just to have found you.”

“Now, don’t mix up the instructions,” Sam Dixon warned her.  “There ain’t no agent around the Junction—­in fact, there ain’t nothin’ around there but wild animals.”

“Oh, really, wild animals?” she asked in surprise.

“Used to be a great place fer huntin’, but beasts don’t like the railroad, so you don’t need to be afraid of them.  Good-bye, Betsy; good-bye!”

And Tavia started for camp.

CHAPTER XVIII

MISTAKEN IDENTITY

Mrs. Hobbs came back to Dorothy as she had promised, and also, as she had promised, she did open a window.

This open window was Dorothy’s hope.  If she could only slip out of it, and drop to the little piazza below!

Mrs. Hobbs had brought up a cup of warm milk, and a slice of toast.  Dorothy took it thankfully, and felt stronger.

“You feel better now?” asked the woman.  “I have to go over the hill for berries—­we have a great crop to-day, and Josh had to go away on business.”  If only Dorothy knew what business!  “Do you think you’ll be all right if I fetch you something to read?”

“Why, of course.  I feel very well to-day, and I shall be glad to sit by the window and read,” said Dorothy.

“Here’s a book.  I got it off last year’s Christmas tree, but I ain’t had no time to read it.”  She handed Dorothy a volume bound in red and inscribed “Myrtle and Ivy.”  There was nothing to show whether it was an agricultural guide, a spiritual retreat, or a love song.

“It’s a pretty book,” said Dorothy, “and I am sure I shall enjoy it.”

“Yes, then I’ll be off.  Only let me tell you one thing dear,” and the woman came up very close to Dorothy, “you must promise me not to try to get away until I can take you to the station.  Josh has the wagon.”

“All right,” replied Dorothy with an amused smile.  “Why should I try to get away?”

“Don’t know, dear, only I must have your promise.”

Dorothy felt queer—­she had reason to be grateful to Mrs. Hobbs, and to give a promise would involve an obligation.  Yet she must make her escape.  Some disturbance downstairs saved the girl further anxiety on the question of the promise.  Mrs. Hobbs ran down to the door, and she did not return.

The summer morning hours sent in their greeting through the small window that opened above the porch.  Dorothy was nervous, she must leave just as soon as she saw Mrs. Hobbs disappear over the hill, when she would be out of the sight of the house.  And her purse was gone!  Well, once out on the clear roadway, surely some one would befriend her.  What a dreadful thing it was to be a prisoner!  And not to know why she was imprisoned!  Her beautiful hair had not been combed in two days.  Dorothy did the