Marjorie at Seacote Part 25

Beside all this, Zeb didn't believe her story. He still thought she had run away from a well-to-do home; and he believed it was because of an unloving stepmother.

But he was not minded to worry the child further with questions at the present time, and it was part of his nature calmly to await developments.

"Let it go at that, Mother," he advised. "Take Jessiky as your maid-of-all-work, on trial,"--he smiled at his wife over Marjorie's bowed head,--"an' ef she's a good little worker, we'll keep her fer the present."

"My stars!" said Mrs. Geary, and then sat in helpless contemplation of these surprising events.

"And I _will_ be a good worker!" declared Marjorie, "and perhaps, sometime, we can sort of decorate the house, and make it sort of,--sort of prettier."

"We can't spend nothin'," declared Mr. Geary, "'cause we ain't got nothin' to spend. So don't think we kin, little miss."

"No," said Marjorie, smiling at him, "but I mean, decorate with wild flowers, or even branches of trees, or pine cones or things like that."

A lump came in Midget's throat, as she remembered how often she had "decorated" with these things in honor of some gay festivity at home.

Oh, what were they doing there, now? Had they missed her? Would they look for her? They _never_ could find her tucked away here in the country.

And Kitty! What _would_ she say when she heard of it? And _all_ of them!

And Mother,--_Mother_!

But all this heart outcry was silent. Her kind old friends heard no word or murmur of complaint or dissatisfaction. If the forlorn old house were distasteful to Marjorie, she didn't show it; if her room seemed to her uninhabitable, n.o.body knew it from her. She ran out to the fields, and returned with an armful of ox-eyed daisies, and bunches of clover; and, with some grapevine trails, she made a real transformation of the dingy, bare walls.

"Well, I swan!" Mr. Geary said, when he saw it; and his wife exclaimed, "My stars!"

CHAPTER XI

THE REUNION

After leaving the conductor's house in Asbury Park, Mr. Maynard and Mr.

Bryant went to a telephone office, and pursued the plan of calling up every railroad station along the road between Seacote and New York.

But no good news was the result. It was difficult to get speech with the station men, and none of them especially remembered seeing a little girl of Marjorie's description get off the train.

"What can we do next?" asked Mr. Maynard, dejectedly; "I can't go home and sit down to wait for police investigation. I doubt if they could ever find Marjorie. I _must_ do something."

"It seems a formidable undertaking," said Mr. Bryant, "to go to each of these way stations; and yet, Ed, I can't think of anything else to do.

We have traced her to the train, and on it. She must have left it somewhere, and we must discover where."

Mr. Maynard looked at his watch.

"Jack," he said, "it is nearly time for that very train to stop here.

Let us get on that, and we may get some word of her from the trainmen other than the conductor."

"Good idea! and meanwhile we'll have just time to s.n.a.t.c.h a sandwich somewhere; which we'd better do, as you've eaten nothing since breakfast."

"Neither have you, old chap; come on."

After a hasty luncheon, the two men boarded at Asbury Park, the same train which Marjorie had taken at Seacote the day before. Conductor Fischer greeted them, and called his trainmen, one by one, to be questioned.

"Sure!" said one of them, at last, "I saw that child, or a girl dressed as you describe, get off this train at Newark. She was a plump little body, and pretty, but mighty woe-begone lookin'. She was in comp'ny with a big, red-faced man, a common, farmer-lookin' old fellow. It struck me queer at the time, them two should be mates."

Mr. Maynard's heart sank. This looked like kidnapping. But the knowledge of where Marjorie had alighted was help of some sort, at least.

After discussing further details of her dress and appearance, Mr.

Maynard concluded that it was, indeed, Midget who had left the train at Newark with the strange man, and so he concluded to get off there also.

"We're on the trail, now," said Jack Bryant, cheerily; "we're sure to find her."

Mr. Maynard, though not quite so hopeful, felt a little encouraged, and impatiently the two men sprang off the train at Newark. Into the station they went and interviewed an attendant there.

"Yep," he replied, "I seen that kid. She was with old Zeb Geary, an' it got me, what he was doin' with a swell kid like her!"

"Where did they go?" asked Mr. Maynard, eagerly.

"I dunno. Prob'ly he went home. He lives out in the country, and he takes a little jaunt down to the sh.o.r.e now and then. He's sort of eccentric,--thinks he can sell his farm stuff to the hotel men, better'n any other market."

"How can I get to his house?"

"Wanter see Zeb, do you? Well, he has his own rig, not very n.o.bby, but safe. I guess you could get a rig at that stable 'cross the way. An'

they can tell you how to go."

"Couldn't I get a motor-car?"

"Likely you could. Go over there and ask the man."

The station attendant had duties, and was not specially interested in a stranger's queries, so, having rewarded him, as they thought he deserved, the two men hastened over to the livery stable.

"Zeb Geary?" said the stable keeper. "Why, yes, he lives five miles out of town. He leaves his old horse here when he goes anywhere on the train. It's no ornament to my place, but I keep it for the old fellow.

He's a character in his way. Yes, he went out last night and a little girl with him."

"Could we get a motor here, to go out there?"

"Right you are! I've good cars and good chauffeurs."

In a few moments, therefore, Mr. Maynard and Mr. Bryant were speeding away toward Zeb Geary, and, as they hoped, toward Marjorie.

While the car was being made ready, Mr. Maynard had telephoned to King that they had news of Marjorie, and hoped soon to find her. He thought best to relieve the minds of the dear ones at home to this extent, even if their quest should prove fruitless, after all.

"I can't understand it," said Mr. Maynard, as they flew along the country roads. "This Geary person doesn't sound like a kidnapper, yet why else would Midget go with him?"

"I'm only afraid it _wasn't_ Marjorie," returned Mr. Bryant. "But we shall soon know."