For the children no longer ate in the kitchen with the family. They subsisted as best they could upon the scraps and leavings which were vouchsafed them after the Grimes trio had eaten. Mollie usually went to the kitchen for these rations and carried them to the barn in a large tin pan or pail. Maria treated her no worse than she would have treated her had Mollie been her daughter. She wanted her to perform those tasks which she was too lazy to perform herself and, if Mollie failed in their performance, Maria's own dread of her lord and master compelled her to scold and punish the child or be knocked down herself for her laxity. After a few experiences Mollie never failed. She was worried, however, about Stephen. From the day of their arrival at the terrible farm he had taken the place of both her father and mother. He was her confidant and advisor. He was always ready to comfort and encourage her, and he thought out all her perplexing problems. If anything happened to Splutters it would seem, Mollie thought, like the end of the world. Yet she knew, and Stephen knew, that any day, any moment his life might be in jeopardy. He still carried with him the letter addressed to the master of the school which his benefactress had entrusted to him for delivery and the small photograph, carefully wrapped in tissue paper, which he had secreted the night his arrival at the farm. These treasures he now wore about his waist under his tattered shirt. They were carefully wrapped in a piece of old oilcloth and the packet slipped into a pocket, torn from an old coat. [Illustration: _Scene from Mary Pickford's Photoplay_. _Sparrows_. THE ESCAPE THROUGH THE SWAMP.] Among the children's prized possessions was a sewing-kit. It had been found in Stephen's traveling bag. Mollie and Cynthy both knew how to sew doll clothes. Using this knowledge they sewed Stephen's precious documents securely in the folded cloth and fastened strings to it so he could tie them about his waist. Thus they escaped discovery. "Ef I ever git away from here," the boy sagely remarked, "they'll help folks to find out about the mistake." But the chance of escape grew more and more remote. Mollie, standing ever between the children and the ogre, was desperate. Something, she declared, must be done before any harm came to Splutters. It was Stephen, himself, who suggested the kite. But so far as the children could judge that first kite never reached its destination. At the very moment of its ascension Stephen, who was holding the cord, heard Peter shout for him. "Steve--hey, yo' Steve, whyn't yo' answer when I call! Come hyar an' 'tend ter this shoat." In nervous haste the boy released the cord. But he was not quick enough. The ogre, coming into view at the moment, had a glimpse of the kite disappearing just beyond the tree tops. Never in their recollection had the children seen him display such rage.