  Jane Patterson finished her tennis match and came back across the river in a canoe belonging to one of the boys, just as Mary Louise had suggested. Although she had hoped that her chum would return in time for the afternoon swim, she was not surprised when Mary Louise failed to appear. Adams’ farm was farther off than you thought—when you had to go the whole distance on foot. Jane remembered that Mrs. Gay had taken the car to the fair. She managed to find Freckles in the water and asked him to come right back to the bungalow after the swim. “Mary Lou has gone to Adams’ farm to see Hattie,” she explained. “She had to walk, so she’ll be all in when she gets back. Your mother will be tired too. So let’s have supper ready, Freckles. You can set the table and crack the ice for the tea.” “O.K., Jane,” agreed the boy. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can dress.” The two young people worked fast: at six o’clock, when Mrs. Gay drove back from the fair, they had the meal on the table. “It certainly smells good, girls!” she exclaimed as she came through the kitchen door from the garage. “Girls nothing!” retorted Freckles. “You mean ‘girl and boy,’ Mother. I did a lot of work for this meal.” “That’s fine, dear,” replied Mrs. Gay. “But where’s Mary Lou?” “She went over to Adams’ farm to see Hattie,” answered Jane. “And she hasn’t come back yet.” “In all this heat? Oh, that’s too bad! She should have waited till I got home with the car. I didn’t know she was going.” “She wasn’t sure of it herself. She was hoping to find Hattie over at the hotel. But evidently she didn’t, for she didn’t wait to play any tennis.” “Well, I guess she’ll be along soon,” remarked Mrs. Gay cheerfully. “We’ll keep a plate hot for her. But let’s eat. We’re all hungry, and this food is too good to spoil by drying up.” The meal passed off pleasantly; nobody thought of being worried by Mary Louise’s absence. But as the minutes went by and she did not come, Freckles was the first to become anxious. For he remembered the threat to the Ditmars on that coarse piece of paper that morning, and he knew that Mary Louise was involved in that same business. When seven o’clock struck and still his sister had not put in an appearance, he suggested that his mother take the car and drive over to Adams’. “It’s such a lonely road up to that farm,” he explained, “that if Mary Lou had sprained her ankle or hurt herself on the way, nobody might pass by for hours to give her help.” Mrs. Gay was startled. It had not occurred to her that anything might have happened to her daughter. Mary Louise was always so self-reliant, and Shady Nook was such a safe place. “You two people go,” said Jane. “I’ll stay here and wash the dishes. I want to squeeze some lemons, because some of the bunch are coming over here tonight—if that’s all right with you, Mrs. Gay.” “Certainly it’s all right, dear. And Mary Lou will be delighted, too—I’m sure.” Mrs. Gay backed the car out of the garage with Freckles in the seat beside her and drove slowly up the dirt road which led to Adams’ farm. The boy kept a sharp watch on both sides of the road, to make sure that his sister was not lying helpless along the way. Twice his mother stopped the car; and they both called Mary Louise’s name. But there was no response. “She may just have stayed for supper with Hattie,” remarked Mrs. Gay. “And of course, since neither of us has a telephone, she couldn’t let us know. She’d think we wouldn’t worry so long as she got home before dark.” “Oh, sure,” muttered the boy. But he was anxious: his mother didn’t know what had happened that morning. They reached the Adams’ gate at last and got out of the car. Old Mr. Adams was sitting alone on the porch with one leg propped up on a chair. “Good-evening, Mr. Adams,” began Mrs. Gay. “Is Mary Louise here? I’m her mother.” “No, she ain’t,” replied the old man, taking the pipe out of his mouth. “Has she been here?” “Not as I know of. Hattie and I have been to the fair all afternoon. If your daughter was here, she must have turned right around and gone home again. Nobody was home all afternoon except poor Rebecca. And she’s sick abed.” A feeling of alarm crept over Mrs. Gay. What could have happened to Mary Louise? “Was Tom home?” demanded Freckles, remembering his sister’s warning. “Don’t reckon so. He was workin’ over to the hotel today, after he helped our hired man this mornin’.” “Is he here now? Could we ask him?” The old man shook his head. “Tom packed up and left tonight, right after supper. Hattie drove him down to the Junction to catch the train. He’s got a friend out West somewhere who owns a ranch. So Tom decided all of a sudden to go there. I tried to stop him, for we need him here, as I’m all crippled up with rheumatism half the time. But he wouldn’t listen to me. Pig-headed, that’s what I call it!” Freckles’ eyes opened wide with terror. It sounded as if Mary Louise had been right in assuming Tom’s guilt in connection with the fires at Shady Nook. Running away proved it! But what had he done to Mary Lou first? “Could we talk to Rebecca?” inquired Mrs. Gay. “Sure,” agreed Mr. Adams. “But it probably won’t do no good. She can’t remember things straight, you know.” “She might remember seeing Mary Louise, if she had stopped in,” replied Mrs. Gay. “Anyhow, it’s worth trying.” “Go right up,” said the old man. “Room at the back of the house. You won’t have no trouble finding it. Sorry I can’t go with you, but my leg’s pretty bad tonight.” “Oh, that’s all right!” responded Mrs. Gay. “I’ll find the way by myself. You better stay here, Freckles.” The boy looked disappointed; he would have liked to take another look at that queer creature and size her up for himself. Maybe she had done something to Mary Lou! But he sat down on the steps as his mother advised and waited patiently. Mrs. Gay hurried on up to Rebecca’s room, and found the woman in bed, as she had expected, with her tangled gray hair spread over the pillows. She stared blankly at her visitor. “I am Mary Louise’s mother, Rebecca,” announced Mrs. Gay. “You remember Mary Louise? The girl who saved the Smith baby in the fire?” The woman nodded. “Yes, I know Mary Louise. She came to see me today. Got me a drink of water. It wasn’t well water, but it tasted good. She is a fine girl. I like Mary Louise.” “What time was she here?” “I don’t know. I can’t tell time. It’s all the same to me—except day and night. She was here in daytime.” Mrs. Gay sighed. “Where was she going after she left you?” she asked. “Did she happen to say?” “No, she didn’t.... I heard a car outside—I think it was my brother Tom’s. But I don’t know if Mary Louise had gone before that or not. I can’t remember.” Her voice trailed off as if she were half dreaming. “She said she’d look for well water for me, because I’m sick. She said she’d come again. Oh, Mary Louise is a good girl.” Mrs. Gay walked to the doorway. There was nothing more to be learned from Rebecca. She wasn’t even sure that the woman knew what she was talking about. If only she could talk to the brother! But it was too late now; the only thing to do was to wait for Hattie to return from the Junction and see whether she had any news. “Rebecca says that Mary Louise was here this afternoon,” she told Mr. Adams and Freckles when she returned to the porch. “I’m afraid that don’t mean nothin’,” remarked the old man. “Like as not, Rebecca’s confusing today with yesterday or even last week. She ain’t got no memory at all.” “Do you think Hattie will be back soon?” “I reckon so. Sounds like the Ford now, at the bottom of the hill. But she was away all afternoon, you recollect, at the fair.” “I know,” agreed Mrs. Gay. “But Rebecca seems to remember a car arriving about the time Mary Louise left, and she thought it was your son’s. So maybe he saw Mary Louise and mentioned it to Hattie.” Freckles’ heart stood still at these words. Tom Adams, with a car! What had he done to Mary Lou? But he did not say anything; he waited for Hattie Adams to drive her car into the garage. In another moment the girl appeared on the porch and nodded pleasantly to Mrs. Gay and Freckles. “Where’s Mary Lou?” she inquired immediately. “That’s just what we want to know!” cried Freckles. “She’s—lost! Did Tom say anything about seeing her?” “No, he didn’t. He never mentioned her. Why?” Mrs. Gay explained again what Rebecca had said, but Hattie was just as doubtful as her father had been about the veracity of any of Rebecca’s statements. “I wouldn’t go by that,” she said. “But Mary Lou may be home by this time, waiting for you. Don’t worry till you find out.” This sounded like good advice, so Mrs. Gay and Freckles got into their car and drove as quickly as possible back to Shady Nook. Jane, the Reed twins, Stuart Robinson, and the four new boys were all waiting anxiously on the Gays’ porch. But Mrs. Gay knew immediately from their expressions that Mary Louise had not returned. “Get the boys together at once, Freckles,” commanded Stuart Robinson, “and we’ll search the woods thoroughly. Two of you fellows paddle across to the island, and two more go over to the hotel and hunt around there. Mary Lou may have sprained her ankle somewhere and be waiting for help.” Mrs. Gay went inside the cottage, into her bedroom, and sat down, making a desperate effort to control her fears. But she couldn’t help thinking of all the dreadful stories she had read in the newspapers—stories of kidnaping and sudden death. Oh, if only her husband were here! She picked up his last letter from the bureau. He was in Cleveland now and hoped to be with them soon. Soon! She must have him immediately. She remembered the promise she had given him when they said good-bye—to send for him if she needed him. Yes, she would wire tonight! She’d paddle across the river to the hotel and send a telegram over the phone. Coming out of the door again she almost ran into Horace Ditmar, with Freckles beside him. “We’re afraid this is serious, Mrs. Gay,” he said. “Freckles said Mary Louise suspected Tom Adams of starting the fires at Shady Nook and writing us a threat, which we found under our door this morning. And now your boy tells me that Tom Adams has run away.... So we’re afraid that he may have done something to Mary Louise.” “Oh no!” cried Mrs. Gay, aghast. “Oh, it just isn’t possible!” “But it is, Mother,” said the boy. “And Mr. Ditmar thinks we should send for the police immediately. He’ll go over to the hotel and send a wire now.” Mrs. Gay sank unsteadily into a chair. For an instant she thought she was going to faint. But she made a desperate effort to control herself; she realized that she needed all her powers in this terrible emergency. “Yes, go, Mr. Ditmar,” she said. “And telegraph to my husband at the same time.” She scribbled a message on the envelope with Mr. Gay’s address and handed it to the young man. Mr. Ditmar left immediately, and Freckles brought his mother a glass of water. She drank it gratefully. “Here comes Mrs. Reed,” he announced cheerfully. “Have her stay with you while I join the boys, Mother,” he said, bending down and kissing her. “For I can’t leave you alone.” In these last two hours the boy had suddenly seemed to grow up. His mother realized the fact, and, in spite of her trouble, she was grateful and proud. “I’ll be all right, dear,” she replied. “And you go along. Mary Lou knows your whistle better than anything else, and if she is somewhere in the woods, you’ll surely find her.... Go, dear!” Freckles ran off, and a systematic search of all the country around Shady Nook began: with lanterns and flashlights and whistles, interspersed by frequent calls from the boys and girls. But as the darkness grew deeper and the silence of the woods more intense, an increasing sense of alarm took hold of all the searchers. Joking and laughter ceased; the only singing that broke out was forced, because someone thought it might help find Mary Louise. But it was all in vain. Midnight came, and the various groups made their way back to Shady Nook, tired, hungry, and disheartened. Mrs. Gay and Mr. and Mrs. Reed and the three Partridge women were all still sitting on the Gays’ porch, hopefully waiting for news. But they knew from the slow, silent manner of the young people’s return that they had not been successful. “Make us some coffee, and we’ll begin all over again,” said Stuart Robinson. “Mary Lou must be somewhere!” Mrs. Gay shook her head. “No, I think you better all go to bed. The children must have their sleep. In the morning the police will come. Perhaps they will have some news for us.” “If only we hadn’t let Tom Adams get away from us!” muttered Horace Ditmar. “We went back to Adams’ and got the old man out of bed to try to learn Tom’s address. But he said he didn’t know it, and I’m inclined to believe he was speaking the truth.” Even in her half-frenzied state, Mrs. Gay looked at the young architect and thought what an admirable man he was. How anyone could have thought him guilty of any crime was more than she could understand. He was more help to her in the crisis than anyone else—except Freckles. So, accepting Mrs. Gay’s advice, the group dispersed to their own cottages, intending to continue the search the following morning. |
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