"I don't know. He'd be awful mad. He hasn't got so awful much money, you know, and he needs it all for the farm. But Maw Hoover thinks Jake's all right. She'd find some excuse for him. She always does when he does get found out. That happens sometimes, you know. He can't always make them think I've done it." "I guess maybe that's why he's so mean, Bessie. Don't you think so?" "Shouldn't wonder, Zara. I don't believe he stops to think half the time. Here we are! We'll cut through the fence. Careful as we go through--keep to the lanes between the stalks. We mustn't hurt the corn, you know." "I'd like to pull up every stalk! These people 'round here have been mean and ugly to my father ever since we came here." "That isn't right, though, Zara. It won't do you any good to hurt them in return. If you do wrong, too, just because they have, you'll be just as bad as they are." "Oh, I know, but they've said all sorts of awful things, and if they've put him in prison now--" She stopped, with a sob, and Bessie took her hand. "Cheer up, Zara. We don't know that anything of that sort has happened yet, and, even if it has, it will come out all right. If your father hasn't done anything wrong, they can't punish him. He'll get a fair trial if he's been arrested, and they can't prove he's done anything unless he has, you know." "But if they lied about him around here, mightn't they lie the same afterward--at the trial, Bessie? I'm frightened; really I am!" "Hush, Zara! There's your house, and there's a light! That means there's someone there. I hope it's your father, but it might be someone else, and we mustn't let them hear us." The two girls were out of the cornfield now, and, crossing a little patch of swampy land, came to the little garden around Zara's house, where her father had planted a few vegetables that helped to feed him and Zara. The house was little better than a cabin, a rough affair, tumbled down in spots, with a sagging roof, and stained and weather-worn boards. It had no second floor at all, and it was a poor, cheap apology for a dwelling, all around. But, after all, it was Zara's home, the only home she knew, and she was so tired and discouraged that all she wanted was to get safely inside and throw herself down on her hard bed to sleep. "Listen!" whispered Bessie, suddenly. From the room into which the kitchen led there came a murmur of voices. At first, though they strained their ears, they could make nothing out of the confused sounds of talk. But gradually they recognized voices, and Bessie turned pale as she heard Paw Hoover's, easy for her to know, since his deep tones rumbled out in the quiet night. Zara recognized them, too, and clutched Bessie's arm. "My father isn't there!" she whispered. "If he was, I'd hear him." "There's Farmer Weeks--and I believe that's Jake Hoover's voice, too," said Bessie, also in a whisper.