The Poor Little Rich Girl - The Poor Little Rich Girl Part 23
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The Poor Little Rich Girl Part 23

"Robin Hood's Barn!"

"Exactly. Nice day, _isn't_ it?"

By the expression on his face, Gwendolyn judged that Robin Hood's Barn--of which she had often heard--was a most undesirable spot. "Is it far?" she asked, swallowing.

"No. Only--we'll have to go around it."

Somehow, all at once, he seemed the one friend she had. She put out a hand to him. "You _will_ go with me?" she begged. "Oh, I want to find my fath-er, and my moth-er!"

"You want to tell 'em the real truth about those three servants they're hiring. Unless I'm _much_ mistaken, your parents have never taken one good square look at those three."

"Oh, let's start." Now, of a sudden, all the hopes and plans of the past months came crowding back into her mind. "I want to sit at the grown-up table," she declared. "And I want to live in the country, and go to day-school."

He hung the hand-organ over a shoulder. "You can do every one of them,"

he said, "if we find your father and mother."

"We'll find them," she cried determinedly.

"We'll find 'em," he said, "if, as we go along, we don't leave one--single--stone--_unturned_."

"Oh!" she glanced about her, searching the ground.

"Not _one_," he repeated. "And now--we'll start." He picked up two or three small articles--an ear, a handful of hair, a plump cheek.

"But there's a stone right here," said Gwendolyn. It was a small one, and lay at her feet, close to the table-leg.

He peered over. "All right! Turn it!"

She stooped--turned the rock--straightened.

The next moment a chill swept her; the next, she felt a heavy hand upon her shoulder, and clumsy fingers busy with the buttons on the gingham dress.

"_Tee! hee! hee! hee!_"

It was the voice that had called from a distance. Hearing it now she felt a sudden, sickish, sinking feeling. She whirled.

A strange creature was kneeling behind her--a creature dressed in black sateen, and like no human being that she had ever met before. For it was _two-faced!_

One face (the front) was blowzy and freckled, with a small pug nose and a quarrelsome mouth. The other (the face on what, with ordinary persons, was the back of the head) was dark and forbidding, its nose a large brick-colored pug, the mouth underneath shaped most extraordinarily--not unlike a _barrette_, for it was wide and long, and square at the corners, and full of shining tortoise-shell teeth! But the creature had only one tongue. This was loose at both ends, so that there was one tip for her front face, and one for the back. But she had only one pair of eyes. These were reddish. They watched Gwendolyn boldly from the front; then rolled quickly to the rear to stare at the Man-Who-Makes-Faces.

At sight of the two-faced creature, Gwendolyn shrank away, frightened.

"Oh!--oh, my!" she faltered.

Both horrid mouths now bellowed hilariously. And the creature reached out a big hand.

"Look here, Gwendolyn!" it ordered. "You ain't goin'!"

Gwendolyn lifted terrified eyes for a second look at the brick-colored hair, the blowzy countenance. No possibility of doubt remained!

It was Jane!

CHAPTER IX

Bobbing and swaying foolishly, the nurse-maid shuffled to her feet. And Gwendolyn, though she wanted to turn and flee beyond the reach of those big, clutching hands, found herself rooted to the ground, and could only stand and stare helplessly.

The Man-Who-Makes-Faces stepped to her side hastily. His look was perturbed. "My! My!" he exclaimed under his breath. "She's worse than I thought!--_much_ worse."

With a little gasp of relief at having him so near, Gwendolyn slipped her trembling fingers into his. "She's worse than _I_ thought," she managed to whisper back.

Neither was given a chance to say more. For seeing them thus, hand in hand, Jane suddenly started forward--with a great boisterous hop and skip. Her front face was distorted with a jealous scowl. She gave Gwendolyn a rough sidewise shove.

"Git away from that old beggar!" she commanded harshly. "Why, he'll kidnap you! Look at his knife!"

Nimbly the little old gentleman thrust himself in front of her, barring her way, and shielding Gwendolyn. "Who told you where she was?" he asked angrily.

"Who?" mocked Jane, impudently. "Well, who is it that tells people things?"

"You mean the _Bird?_"

Jane's front face broke into a pleased grin. "I mean the Bird," she bragged And balanced from foot to foot.

Gwendolyn, peeking round at her, of a sudden felt a fresh concern. The Bird!--the same Bird that had repeated tales against her father! And now he was tattling on her! She saw all her hopes of finding her parents, all her happy plans, in danger of being blighted.

"Oh, my goodness!" she said mournfully.

She was holding tight to the little old gentleman's coat-tails. Now he leaned down. "We _must_ get rid of her," he declared. "You know what I said. She'll make us trouble!"

"Here! None of that!" It was Jane once more, the grin replaced by a dark look. "I'll have you know this child is in _my_ charge." Again she tried to seize Gwendolyn.

The Man-Who-Makes-Faces stood his ground resolutely--and swung the curved knife up to check any advance.

"She doesn't need you," he declared "She's seven, and she's grown-up."

And to Gwendolyn, "_Tell_ her so! Don't be afraid! Tell her!"

Gwendolyn promptly opened her mouth. But try as she would, she could not speak. Her lips seemed dry. Her tongue refused to move. She could only swallow!

As if he understood her plight, the little old gentleman suddenly sprang aside to where was the sauce-box, snatched something out of it, ran to the other table and picked up an oblong leather case (a case exactly like the gold-mounted one in which Miss Royle kept her spectacles), put the something out of the sauce-box into the case, closed the case with a snap, and put it, with a swift motion, into Gwendolyn's hand.

"There!" he cried triumphantly. "There's that stiff upper lip! _Now_ you can answer."

It was true! No sooner did she feel the leather case against her palm, than her fear, and her hesitation and lack of words, were gone!

She assumed a determined attitude, and went up to Jane. "I don't need you," she said firmly. "'Cause I'm seven years old now, and I'm grown up. And--what are you here for _anyhow?_"