"For years. Mrs. Carder took him from the orphan asylum when he was a child. She thought he would be more useful than a girl. They keep him as a slave. You saw how very bow-legged he is. He can't get about normally, but he drives the car and helps in the kitchen and does every sort of menial task. There was such a look in his eyes always when he saw me. Little as I could do for him, or even speak to him, I'm afraid he is missing me terribly." Geraldine's look suddenly grew misty. "See how faithful he was about Daddy's letter. Poor little Pete. Mr. Carder will be out of his mind at my flight. I hope he doesn't visit it on that poor boy." "Well," said Ben, heroically refraining from putting his arms around her, "why don't we take him?" "We? Take Pete? How wonderful!" she returned, her handkerchief pausing in mid-air. "Sure thing, if you want him. Send him to the barber and have his hair mowed. Have some trousers cut out for him with a circular saw and fix him up to the queen's taste." "Oh, Mr. Barry--Ben! You don't know what you're saying. It would give me more relief than I can express, for the boy's lot is so miserable and starved." "Well, then, that is settled, my princess." "But you can't get him. I can't help feeling that anyone who has lived there so long, and been so unconsidered and unnoticed, must know more than Mr. Carder wishes to have go to the outside world. His mother hinted some things." Geraldine gasped with reminiscent horror of that low-ceiled kitchen. Her companion suddenly looked very alert. "Highly probable," he returned. "Why didn't you say that before? We certainly will take Pete in. What are his habits? You say he drives the car." "Yes, he did until he was set to dog my movements. I often heard it referred to. Do you mean--you could never get him in this blessed chariot. He will probably never see the meadow again unless they send him to get the cows." Ben shook his head. "No; I think he will have to be bagged some other way. What's the matter with my going back to the farm on my motor-cycle and engaging him, overbidding the ogre?" Geraldine actually clasped her hands on the leathern arm beside her. "Promise me," she said fervently, looking into her companion's eyes--"promise me that you will never go back to that farm alone." "You want to go with me?" "Don't joke. Promise me solemnly." Ben's lips took a grave line and he put one hand over the beseeching ones. "Then what will you promise me?" he returned. The blood mantled high over the girl's face. "You're taking me to Miss Upton, aren't you?" she returned irrelevantly. "Yes, if you positively refuse still to go to the parson." The expression of her anxious eyes grew inscrutable. "I want your mother to love me," she said naively. Ben lifted her hands and held them to his lips. "You haven't promised," she said softly. "I know he suspects you now. I think he is a madman when he is angry."