Peggy Raymond's Vacation Part 20

"Don't hurry, Peg," pleaded Amy, as the procession headed for the cottage at a more rapid pace than Amy approved on a summer morning.

"It's more than likely that she isn't home yet. You know she never thinks anything about the time if she's interested."

As Amy's conjecture was based on an intimate knowledge of Aunt Abigail's peculiarities, no one was surprised to find it correct. The front door of the cottage was locked, and the key was hanging on a nail in full view, a custom of the trusting community which had gradually come into favor at Dolittle Cottage. The girls trooped indoors, and preparations for dinner began forthwith, even Dorothy lending her aid. Dorothy loved to sh.e.l.l peas, that ordinarily prosaic task being enlivened by the certainty that she would drop at least two-thirds of the agile vegetables, and be compelled to pursue them into the most unlikely hiding-places.

The peas were sh.e.l.led at last, and Dorothy comforted for the untimely fate of several luckless spheres which had rolled under the feet of preoccupied workers, and, according to Dorothy, had been "scrunched."

Another twenty minutes and Peggy announced that dinner was ready. "If Aunt Abigail would only come. Things won't be so good if they wait."

"I won't be so good if _I_ wait, either," Dorothy declared. "'Cause it makes me cross to get hungry."

Dorothy was provided with an aid to uprightness in the shape of a slice of bread and b.u.t.ter, and the others seated themselves on the porch to await Aunt Abigail's return. It is an open secret that time spent in waiting invariably drags. The wittiest find their ideas deserting them under such circ.u.mstances. The most congenial friends have nothing to say to each other. There are, as a rule, any number of things one can do while one is waiting, but unluckily there is nothing one feels inclined to do. Up till one o'clock conversation was spasmodic. For the next half hour silence reigned, and each face became expressive of a sense of injury and patient suffering. At quarter of two, open revolt was reached.

"Peggy, how much longer are you going to wait?" Amy demanded.

"Everything is probably spoiled by now."

Peggy did her best to be encouraging. "Oh, not exactly spoiled. But it doesn't do a dinner any good to wait an hour or two after it is cooked."

"Why not sit down? She's sure to be here by the time we're fairly started," suggested Ruth.

"I'd as soon wait as not." Claire's face was angelically patient. "I haven't a bit of appet.i.te any more. I suppose it's because my head always begins to ache so if I don't eat at the regular hour."

Peggy rose to her feet rather hastily. "Come on," she said briskly.

"We'll begin. Probably that'll be just the way to bring her." And she wondered why it was that Claire's patient sweetness was so much more trying than Amy's fretful complaint.

But the device for bringing Aunt Abigail home proved unsuccessful. Peggy put her dinner on the back of the stove to keep warm, and it was still simmering, undisturbed, when the platter and the various serving dishes on the table had been sc.r.a.ped clean, for the loss of appet.i.te of which Claire complained was by no means universal. The work of clearing the table and was.h.i.+ng the dishes was usually protracted, for every other minute some one ran out on the porch to see if Aunt Abigail were approaching. By three o'clock a general uneasiness began to make itself evident.

"I believe I'll go over to the place where those ferns grow," Peggy declared. "Even if she's forgotten all about her dinner, it can't be good for her to go so long without eating. Don't you want to come with me, Amy?"

Amy, who seemed less concerned than any of the company, blithely accepted the invitation. "We'll probably find her with a great armful of ferns and her hat tipped over one ear, and she'll be perfectly astonished to know that it's after twelve o'clock. Oh, you don't know Aunt Abigail as well as I do."

But though they searched the section of the woods Jerry had designated as the _habitat_ of the rare fern, and called Aunt Abigail's name at frequent intervals, there was no answer, nor did they find anything to indicate that there had been an earlier visitor to the locality.

Amy's confidence seemed a little shaken by this discovery and she made no objection to the rapidity of their return to the cottage. Ruth came hurrying out to meet them. "Has she come?" Amy called, her voice betraying her change of mood.

"No. Haven't you found her?" It was of course an unnecessary question, for the anxious faces of the two girls would have told that their quest had been unsuccessful, even if their failure had not been sufficiently demonstrated by the fact that Aunt Abigail was not accompanying them.

"We'd better go right over to Coles'," Peggy said after a minute's pause. "Perhaps Mrs. Cole found she was alone, and asked her to dinner."

"I've been there," was Ruth's disappointing reply. "And I went down to Mrs. Snooks', too. I thought Aunt Abigail might have gone there to borrow something. You know she was so unwilling to give up the idea. But Mrs. Snooks was sitting out on the porch, and she said she hadn't seen her."

The others had gathered around them as they stood talking. The speckled chicken, who, as a result of being brought up "by hand," was developing an extravagant fondness for human society, came up peeping shrilly, evidently under the impression that in so sizable a gathering, there must be some one who had nothing better to do than minister to his wants. Hobo, too, made his appearance, and he alone of the company gave no sign of mental disturbance. Amy pushed him away impatiently as he rubbed against her, the effect of worry on Amy's temperament having the not unusual result of making her short-tempered. Then a bright idea flashed into her head.

"Peggy, maybe he could track her."

"Who could?"

"Why, Hobo. We can let him smell something Aunt Abigail has worn, and then if he's any good, he ought to be able to follow the trail. I don't see how we're going to hunt for her, unless we try something like that."

Peggy did not regard the suggestion in a particularly hopeful light, but at the same time she had nothing better to suggest. To continue the search for Aunt Abigail without a single clue as to the direction she had taken, was not unlike looking for the proverbial needle in the haymow. Accordingly, Peggy followed without protest, while the other girls, relieved by the mere suggestion of a definite program, hurried into the house and up the stairs to Aunt Abigail's room. A moment later they reappeared, each bearing something selected from Aunt Abigail's belongings.

The various articles were deposited in a circle about Hobo, as if he had been a heathen idol, and Aunt Abigail's worsted shawl and silk work-bag, votive offerings. Hobo did not in the least understand the meaning of this new game, but he was pleased to find himself the centre of attention, and thumped his tail against the porch with a sound like persistent knocking.

"I don't believe I'd give him this," exclaimed Peggy, picking up the work-bag and sniffing thoughtfully. "It smells so strong of peppermint that it's likely to mislead him."

"She always carried peppermint drops in that bag," said Amy. The use of the past tense was such an unconscious admission of fearing the worst, that the girls looked at one another aghast. And then Peggy, with a desperate realization that something must be done, and that immediately, seized the worsted shawl, and knelt down before Hobo. "Find her, good fellow," she urged, holding the wrap close to the dog's nose.

Over the fleecy mound, Hobo regarded Peggy with bright, intelligent eyes. "He's smelling of it," said a thrilled voice in the background.

"Yes, and he looks as if he understood," cried another voice. "See how his eyes s.h.i.+ne."

Even Peggy's doubts were vanis.h.i.+ng before Hobo's air of absorbed attention. "Find her, Hobo," she insisted. "Find Aunt Abigail."

The little group stood breathless, while Hobo descended the steps, and nose to earth, followed the winding gravelled path for half its distance. Then taking an abrupt turn, he struck off across the lawn.

Their hearts in their mouths the girls hurried after. Peggy heard Priscilla just behind her, saying that it was perfectly wonderful.

Priscilla had always retained a trace of her first disapproval of Hobo's admission into the family circle, and even at that anxious moment, Peggy felt a little thrill of satisfaction over the fact that the wisdom of her charity had been vindicated.

Hobo ambled across the lawn, stopped abruptly at the foot of the pear-tree, and there seated himself, looking up into the branches, and wagging his tail, with an air of having abundantly satisfied his own expectations. Peggy's efforts to induce him to take up the trail were useless. Familiar as they all were with Aunt Abigail's eccentricities, it was impossible to believe that she had improved the occasion of their absence to climb a pear-tree, especially as its fruit had been gathered weeks earlier. Moreover, even granting the possibility of so erratic a proceeding, she must have descended from her perch, unless she had continued her journey by airs.h.i.+p. Peggy brought the worsted shawl, and renewed her appeals and commands, while Hobo continued to wag his tail, apparently under the impression that he was being praised for some remarkable achievement.

"There's no use wasting any more time," Amy cried at last, "on a dog as stupid as that one."

"He never pretended to be a bloodhound," said Peggy, her sense of justice driving her to the defence of her protege. And then she dropped the shawl and ran to meet Jerry Morton, whose cheery whistle usually announced his coming some time in advance of his actual arrival.

Jerry had come to ask the opinion of the company as to the advisability of occupying the second intermission by a banjo duet. But before he could introduce the subject, his attention was claimed by the news of Aunt Abigail's mysterious disappearance. As all the girls talked at once, the resulting explanation was somewhat confused, and Jerry gathered the impression that Hobo was being held responsible for driving Aunt Abigail into the pear-tree. Corrected on this point, his face suddenly acquired an expression of extreme seriousness.

"I saw long 'bout noon--but 'tain't likely that had anything to do with it."

"What was it?" cried the girls in chorus, each conscious of a chilly sensation in the neighborhood of the spine. And Amy added fiercely, "If you know anything, Jerry, tell it quick! We're losing lots of time."

"Well, it was a band of gypsies."

There was a minute of awed silence. "But you don't think--" Amy began, and paused helplessly.

"I don't think anything but--well, they had three wagons--you know the kind--and in the bottom of the last one, I could see somebody lying stretched out and all covered over with a blanket. I thought most likely one of the men had been drinking and was just sleeping it off. But, of course--"

Jerry paused, overwhelmed at the sight of the horror depicted on the faces of his auditors. Vainly he racked his brain for a less hara.s.sing explanation of the fact that Aunt Abigail had disappeared some time during the forenoon, and at five o'clock was still missing. Peggy, her lips very white, attempted to rea.s.sure herself and the others, by attacking the theory he had suggested.

"But, Jerry, what would gypsies want with an old lady like Aunt Abigail?

I thought they only stole babies."

"Yes, and they come back after a while and claim their fathers'

estates," chimed in Amy hysterically.

Jerry would have liked to be consoling, but did not see his way clear to that end. He accordingly observed that real gypsies would steal anything they could lay their hands on. And when he had finished this expression of his inmost convictions, Amy burst into tears.

"Oh, why are we wasting time?" she cried. "We ought to get Mr. Cole and Joe and all the men around to drive after those people and see who was under that blanket. Oh, dear. Oh, dear!"

Dorothy was pulling Peggy's skirt. "Aunt Peggy! Aunt Peggy, listen!"

"Oh, hush, Dorothy. I can't attend to you."