The shed doors were open, and the wagon gone and the horse's stall
vacant.
Bart went to the back door of the house and knocked, and in a few
minutes it was opened by a thin-faced, slatternly-looking woman.
Bart knew who she was, and she apparently knew him, though they had
never spoken together before. The woman's face looked interested, and
then worried.
"Good morning, Mrs. Wacker," said Bart, courteously lifting his cap.
"Could I see Mr. Wacker for a moment?"
"He isn't at home."
"Oh! went away early? I suppose, though, he will be back soon."
"No, he hasn't been home all night," responded the woman in a dreary,
listless tone. "You work at the railroad, don't you? Have they sent for
Lem? He said he was expecting a job there--we need it bad enough!"
She glanced dejectedly about the wretched kitchen as she spoke, and Bart
felt truly sorry for her.
"I have no word of any work," announced Bart, "but I wish to see Mr.
Wacker very much on private business." When did he leave home?
"Last night at ten o'clock."
"With his horse and wagon?"
"Why, yes," admitted the woman, with a sudden, wondering glance at Bart.
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