"We'll make more sure before we give up," said Dunn.
"I can't think how ever I could be such a fool," broke out the young man. "To leave her all those hours alone! And just because she was vexed with me. Why, I might have known she meant nothing by it, really. You don't think she's staying away because she's angry yet?" he asked dubiously.
"No, that I don't," Dunn answered. "It don't sound mother-like. You've not told me what it was that angered her so, and I'm not a good judge without knowing; but it does seem to me a deal more likely that she just went hunting after you. I can't believe the other."
"Nor I," said Archie.
"Sh-h-h!" Dunn exclaimed in his turn.
And the sound of a groaning murmur—"O dear—deary! O dear—my poor foot! O dear—dear—dear—whatever shall I do?" came distinctly.
"Mother!" cried Archie.
"It's she, I do believe," said Dunn. "Steady, lad—don't run a-muck through the bricks."
"Mother! Where are you?" shouted Archie.
"O dear—dear—dear—please help me!" was groaned out again.