"Yes, sir," Peewee replied guardedly.
"Go out and get into the car."
Peewee halted in the hall to look after Sallet. The lawyer had gone in into the kitchen and was talking with the farmer there and giving him money. As Peewee descended the three steps in front of the house, the large red hen which he detested more than any of the other chickens was throwing dust over her back beside the door-step. He stopped, considering a final vindictive assault upon the hen. The lowness of his spirits prevented this and he went on to the motor. The car, he observed by the tracks in the road, had been turned around in the direction from which it had come, but there was neither additional threat nor any promise in this. He did not dare to ask any questions of the driver, or of Sallet when he came out carrying Peewee's small suitcase.
Peewee had observed that wagons usually were loaded when going in the direction the motor was headed, and empty when they came back. This seemed to predicate something important at the end of the road; it proved, how-
