To distract her, the farmer began talking about the country around and the most likely places to search. He had searched all his own land, he said, directly he heard the Pumpkin was back, and he had helped to prepare some of the beacons on the hills around this district. And he asked Molly if she knew on which hills the beacons were set. Molly dried her eyes, got her map out, and showed him how the beacon hills were marked, and soon she and the farmer and Mrs Rose were poring over the map, planning out the best routes to take, and discussing the most likely places for search. The farmer showed her all the places where the Leaf was _not_ growing, places he had personally searched; and at Molly’s request he marked these places on the map with a lead pencil. Molly decided to herself that she would leave these marked places until the very last, until she had searched all the more likely parts round about. She felt she could not leave them out altogether, although she trusted the farmer absolutely; she had promised to search each part herself. When she mentioned Mr Papingay’s name the farmer and his wife smiled, and although they thought he would certainly have searched the Orange Wood as he said he had, yet he was not sure to have done it thoroughly, and they agreed with Molly that it would be as well to go over the ground again if possible. The fact that the Pumpkin was lurking about there made all three of them think that probably the Leaf was growing somewhere near. Of course, this might not be so; it might be only the Pumpkin’s object to prevent Jack and Molly going any further with the search. “You’ll have to be very cautious, missie, if you go back to the wood,” said Farmer Rose. “It wouldn’t do for you to get caught too.” “I’ll be very careful—but it won’t do for me to be afraid, or p’r’aps I’ll never get Jack back again,” said Molly. “I mustn’t be afraid of anything now.” “That’s the spirit,” said the farmer, slapping his knee. “And if there’s anything we can do to help you—you’ve only got to name it—we shall be proud.” When the farmer’s wife tucked her up in bed, about twenty minutes later, Molly threw her arms round her neck. “I don’t know why you are so good to me,” she said. “Thank you so much. I’ve given you a lot of trouble, I’m afraid.” “Not the least bit in the world,” replied the farmer’s wife. “Try to get to sleep, my dear.... P’r’aps to-morrow—who knows what may happen to-morrow!” Molly was so exhausted that she slept soundly and dreamlessly, in spite of the fact that the wind rattled furiously at her window and roared down the chimney. In the morning she woke with a dreadful, leaden feeling at her heart, but she determined not to brood over yesterday, but to get to work at once.