Dorian Part 20

"Why, everything that's happened in Green street for the past week. I haven't had a visitor up on the farm for ten days."

"Everything is growing splendidly down here. The water in the ca.n.a.l is holding out fine and Brother La.r.s.en is fast learning to be a farmer."

"Good," said Dorian. "Our dry wheat is in most places two feet high, and it will go from forty to fifty bushels, with good luck. If now, the price of wheat doesn't sag too much."

Dorian finished his supper, and was about to go to bed, being in need of a good rest. His mother told him not to get up in the morning until she called him.

"All right, mother," he laughed as he kissed her good night, "but don't let me be late to Sunday School, as I have a topic to treat in the Theological cla.s.s. By heck, they really think I'm Uncle Zed's successor, by the subjects they give me."

He was about to go to his room when his mother called him by name.

"Yes, mother, what is it?"

"You'll know tomorrow, so I might as well tell you now."

"Tell me what?"

"Some bad news."

"Bad news! What is it?"

The mother seemed lothe to go on. She hesitated.

"Well, mother?"

"Carlia is gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"n.o.body knows. She's been missing for a week. She left home last Sat.u.r.day to spend a few days with a friend in the city, so she said.

Yesterday her father called at the place to bring her home and learned that she had never been there."

"My gracious, mother!"

"Yes; it's terrible. Her father has inquired for her and looked for her everywhere he could think of, but not a trace of her can he find. She's gone."

Mother and son sat in silence for some time. He continued to ask questions, but she know no more than the simple facts which she had told. He could do nothing to help, at least, not then, so he reluctantly went to bed. He did not sleep until past midnight.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Dorian was not tardy to Sunday School, and, considering his mental condition, he gave a good account of himself in the cla.s.s. He heard whispered comment on Carlia's disappearance.

After Sunday school Dorian went directly to Carlia's home. He found the mother tear-stained and haggard with care. The tears flowed again freely at the sight of Dorian, and she clung to him as if she had no other means of comfort.

"Do you know where Carlia is?" she wailed.

"No, Sister Duke, I haven't the last idea. I haven't seen her for some time."

"But what shall we do, Dorian, what shall we do! She may be dead, lying dead somewhere!"

"I hardly think that," he tried to comfort her. "She'll turn up again.

Carlia's well able to take care of herself."

The father came in. He told what had been done to try to find the missing girl. Not a word had they heard, not a clue or a trace had been discovered. The father tried hard to control his emotions as he talked, but he could not keep the tears from slowly creeping down his face.

"And I suppose I'm greatly to blame" he said. "I have been told as much by some, who I suppose, are wiser than I am. The poor girl has been confined too much to the work here."

"Work doesn't hurt anybody," commented Dorian.

"No; but all work and no play, I was plainly reminded just the other day, doesn't always make Jack a dull boy: sometimes, it makes dissatisfaction and rebellion--and it seems it has done that here.

Carlia, I'll admit had very little company, saw very little of society.

I realize that now when it may be too late."

"Oh, I hope not," said Dorian.

"Carlia, naturally, was full of life. She wanted to go and see and learn. All these desires in her were suppressed so long that this is the way it has broken loose. Yes, I suppose that's true."

Dorian let the father give vent to his feelings in his talk. He could reply very little, for truth to say, he realized that the father was stating Carlia's case quite accurately. He recalled the girl when he and she had walked back and forth to and from the high school how she had rapidly developed her sunny nature in the warm, somewhat care-free environment of the school life, and how lately with the continual drudgery of her work, she had changed to a pessimism unnatural to one of her years. Yes, one continual round of work at the farm house is apt either to crush to dullness or to arouse to rebellion. Carlia was of the kind not easily crushed.... But what could they now do? What could he do? For, it came to him with great force that he himself was not altogether free from blame in this matter. He could have done more, vastly more for Carlia Duke.

"Well, Brother Duke," said Dorian. "Is there anything that I can do?"

"I don't think of anything," said he.

"Not now," added the mother in a tone which indicated that she did not wish the implied occasion to be too severe.

The father followed Dorian out in the yard. There Dorian asked:

"Brother Duke, has this Mr. Lamont been about lately?"

"He was here yesterday. He came, he said, as soon as he heard of Carlia's disappearance. He seemed very much concerned about it."

"And he knew nothing about it until yesterday?"

"He said not--do you suspect--he--might--?"

"I'm not accusing anybody, but I never was favorably impressed with the man."

"He seemed so truly sorry, that I never thought he might have had something to do with it."

"Well, I'm not so sure; but I'll go and see him myself. I suppose I can find him in his office in the city?"

"I think so--Well, do what you can for us, my boy; and Dorian, don't take to heart too much what her mother implied just now."

"Not any more than I ought," replied Dorian. "If there is any blame to be placed on me--and I think there is--I want to bear it, and do what I can to correct my mistakes. I think a lot of Carlia, I like her more than any other girl I know, and I should have shown that to her both by word and deed more than I have done. I'm going to help you find her, and when I find her I'll not let her go so easily."