“No, Judy, a telegram won't do. I must go to Homer Ward myself. That morning train leaves Thompsonville at six o'clock. You must slip out of the house, and harness 'Old Prince' to the buggy as fast as you can. You will drive with me to Thompsonville, and bring 'Prince' back. You can turn him loose when you get near home, and he will come the rest of the way alone. You must not let Mr. Burns nor Betty Jo see you, because they mustn't know anything about what you have done. Do you understand, child?” “Yes, ma'm,” said Judy, eagerly. She was on her feet now. “You can go to the neighbors and find some place to stay until I return,” continued Auntie Sue. “You don't need ter worry none 'bout me,” said Judy. “I kin take care of myself, I reckon. But ain't you plumb seared ter go 'way on the cars alone an' you so old?” “Old!” retorted Auntie Sue. “I have not felt so strong for twenty years. There is nothing for me to fear. I will be in St. Louis to-morrow night, and in Chicago the next forenoon. I guess I am not so helpless that I can't make a little journey like this. Homer Ward shall never send my boy to prison,--never,--bank or no bank! Go on, now, and get 'Prince' and the buggy ready. We must not miss that train.” She pushed Judy from the room, and again cautioned her not to awaken Brian or Betty Jo. When she had completed her preparations for the trip, Auntie Sue wrote a short note to Betty Jo, telling her that she had been called away suddenly, and that she would return in a few days, and that she was obliged to borrow Betty Jo's pocket-book. Grave as she felt the situation to be, Auntie Sue laughed to herself as she pictured the consternation of Betty Jo and Brian in the morning. Silently, the old lady stole into the girl's room to secure the money she needed and to leave her letter. Then, as silently, she left the house, and found Judy, who was waiting with “Old Prince” and the buggy, ready to start. The station agent at Thompsonville was not a little astonished when Auntie Sue and Judy appeared, and, with the easy familiarity of an old acquaintance greeted her with, “Howdy, Auntie Sue! What in thunder are you doin' out this time of the day? No bad news, I hope?” “Oh, no, Mr. Jackson,” Auntie Sue answered easily. “I'm just going to Chicago for a little visit with an old friend.” “Sort of a vacation, eh?” returned the man behind the window, as he made out her ticket. “Well, you sure have earned one, Auntie Sue. It's gittin' to be vacation time now, too. Bunch of folks come in yesterday to stay at the clubhouse for a spell. Pretty wild lot, I'd say,--wimmen as well as the men. I reckon them clubhouse parties don't disturb you much, though, if you be their nearest neighbor,--do they?”