one, a careless, whistling young man, with very bright socks, very yellow shoes, and very striped cuffs.  He said, in answer to Betsy’s inquiry:  “Vaughan?  Will Vaughan?  Never heard the name,” and immediately went on whistling and looking up and down the aisle over the heads of the little girls, who stood gazing up at him with very wide, startled eyes.  An older man leaned over from the next booth and said:  “Will Vaughan?  He from Hillsboro?  Well, I heard somebody say those Hillsboro Vaughans had word one of their cows was awful sick, and they had to start right home that minute.”

Betsy came to herself out of her momentary daze and snatched Molly’s hand.  “Hurry! quick!  We must find the Wendells before they get away!” In her agitation (for she was really very much frightened) she forgot how easily terrified little Molly was.  Her alarm instantly sent the child into a panic.  “Oh, Betsy!  Betsy!  What will we do!” she gasped, as Betsy pulled her along the aisle and out of the door.

“Oh, the Wendells can’t be gone yet,” said Betsy reassuringly, though she was not at all sure she was telling the truth.  She ran as fast as she could drag Molly’s fat legs, to the horse-shed where Mr. Wendell had tied his horses and left the surrey.  The horse-shed was empty, quite empty.

Betsy stopped short and stood still, her heart seeming to be up in her throat so that she could hardly breathe.  After all, she was only ten that day, you must remember.  Molly began to cry loudly, hiding her weeping face in Betsy’s dress.  “What will we do, Betsy!  What can we do!” she wailed.

Betsy did not answer.  She did not know what they would do!  They were eight miles from Putney Farm, far too much for Molly to walk, and anyhow neither of them knew the way.  They had only ten cents left, and nothing to eat.  And the only people they knew in all that throng of strangers had gone back to Hillsboro.

“What will we do, Betsy?” Molly kept on crying out, horrified by Betsy’s silence and evident consternation.

The other child’s head swam.  She tried again the formula which had helped her when Molly fell into the Wolf Pit, and asked herself, desperately, “What would Cousin Ann do if she were here!” But that did not help her much now, because she could not possibly imagine what Cousin Ann would do under such appalling circumstances.  Yes, one thing Cousin Ann would be sure to do, of course; she would quiet Molly first of all.

At this thought Betsy sat down on the ground and took the panic-stricken little girl into her lap, wiping away the tears and saying, stoutly, “Now, Molly, stop crying this minute.  I’ll take care of you, of course.  I’ll get you home all right.”

“How’ll you ever do it?” sobbed Molly.

“Everybody’s gone and left us.  We can’t walk!”

“Never you mind how,” said Betsy, trying to be facetious and mock-mysterious, though her own under lip was quivering a little.  “That’s my surprise party for you.  Just you wait.  Now come on back to that booth.  Maybe Will Vaughan didn’t go home with his folks.”