He drove away to get his trunk out of the window of his bedroom at the measles-stricken farmhouse down the hill; he would not risk entering by the door for the sake of his other pupils.

A little later Lucas drove up from town with Harris Colesworth and his bag.

"Say!" whispered the lanky farmer, leaning from his seat to whisper to 'Phemie. "I hear tell you've got school teacher for a boarder, too? Is that so?"

"What of it?" demanded 'Phemie, somewhat vexed.

"Oh, nawthin'. Only ye oughter seen Sairy's face when maw told her!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE BALL KEEPS ROLLING

The school teacher pressingly invited the Bray girls to accompany him to the temperance meeting that evening; his buggy would hold the three, he declared. But both Lyddy and 'Phemie had good reason for being excused.

There was now work for them--and plenty of it.

They had to disappoint Lucas in this matter, too; but Harris Colesworth laughingly accepted the teacher's later proposal that _he_ attend, and the two young men drove off together, leaving the girls in the kitchen and old Mr. Colesworth and Mr. Bray playing cribbage in the dining-room.

It was while 'Phemie was clearing the supper table that her attention was caught by something that Mr. Colesworth said.

"Who is your neighbor that I see so much up yonder among the rocks, at the back of this farm, Mr. Bray?" he asked.

"Mr. Pritchett?" suggested Mr. Bray. "Cyrus Pritchett. The long-legged boy's father. He farms a part of these acres----"

"No. It is not Cyrus Pritchett I mean. And he is no farmer."

"I couldn't tell you," said Mr. Bray.

"A rather peculiar-looking man--long hair, black coat, broad-brimmed hat.

I have frequently come upon him during the last few days. He always walks off as though in haste. I never have got near enough to speak to him."

"Why," responded Mr. Bray, thoughtfully scanning his hand, and evidently giving little attention to Mr. Colesworth's mystery, "why, I'm sure I don't know what would attract anybody up in that part of the farm."

"Saving a man interested in breaking open rocks to see what's in them,"

chuckled Mr. Colesworth. "But this fellow is no geologist."

'Phemie, however, decided that she knew who it was. Silas Trent had mentioned seeing the man, Spink, up that way; and, on more than one occasion, 'Phemie was sure the owner of the Diamond Grits breakfast food had been lurking about Hillcrest.

"Lyddy has never asked Cyrus Pritchett about that evening he and Spink were up here--two weeks ago this very night. I almost wish she'd do so.

This mystery is getting on my nerves!"

And yet 'Phemie was not at all sure that there was any mystery about it.

Lyddy, on the strength of getting her first boarders, renewed her advertis.e.m.e.nt in the Easthampton papers. At once she received half a dozen inquiries. It was yet too early in the season to expect many people to wish to come to the country to board; yet Lyddy painstakingly answered each letter, and in full.

But she really did not see how she would be able to get on over the summer with the open fire and the brick oven. It would be dreadfully hot in that kitchen. And she would have been glad to use Mrs. Pritchett's Dutch oven that Lucas had told her about.

But since the first Sunday neither Mrs. Pritchett or Sairy had been near Hillcrest. Now that Mr. Somers had established himself here, the Bray girls did not expect to ever be forgiven by "Maw" Pritchett and her daughter.

"It's too bad people are so foolish," said Lyddy, wearily. "I haven't done anything to Sairy."

"But she and her mother think you have. By your wiles you have inveigled Mr. Somers away from Sairy," giggled 'Phemie.

"'Phemie!" gasped her sister. "If you say such a thing again, I'll send Mr. Somers packing!"

"Oh, shucks! Can't you see the fun of it!?"

"There is no fun in it," declared the very proper Lyddy. "It is only disgraceful."

"I'd like to tell that young Mr. Colesworth about it," laughed 'Phemie.

"He'd just be tickled to death."

Lyddy looked at her haughtily. "You _dare_ include me in any gossip of such a character, and I--"

"Well? You'll what?" demanded the younger girl, saucily.

"I shall feel very much like spanking you!" declared Lyddy. "And that is just what you would deserve."

"Oh, now--don't get mad, Lyd," urged 'Phemie. "You take things altogether too seriously."

"Well," responded the older girl, going back to the main subject, "the problem of how we are to cook when it comes warm weather is a very, very serious matter."

"We've just got to have a range--ought to have one with a tank, on the end in which to heat water. I've seen 'em advertised."

"But how can we? I've gone into debt now for more than thirty dollars'

worth of commercial fertilizer. I don't dare get deeper into the mire."

"But," cried the sanguine 'Phemie, "the crops will more than pay for _that_ outlay."

"Perhaps."

"You're a born grump, Lyddy Bray!"

"Somebody has to look ahead," sighed Lyddy. "The crops may fail. Such things happen. Or we may get no more boarders. Or father may get worse."

"_Don't_ say such things, Lyddy!" cried her sister, stamping her foot.

"Especially about father."

The older girl put her arms about 'Phemie and the latter began to weep on her shoulder.

"Don't let us hide our true beliefs from each other," whispered Lyddy, brokenly. "Father is _not_ mending--not as we hoped he would, at least.

And yet the hospital doctor told Aunt Jane that there was absolutely nothing medicine could do for him."

"I know! I know!" sobbed 'Phemie. "But don't let's talk about it. He is so brave himself. He talks just as though he was gaining every day; but his step is so feeble----"