"I do love you," she said. "Nobody has kissed me good-night since mamma went away. Where do you suppose poor little Bubbles is? Oh, Mrs. Snyder, I am so distressed about her. I'm afraid she might be the one that Zula, the gipsy girl, told me about. Why didn't I ask more about her? I never thought it might be Bubbles. I thought of course that she was safe with Sylvy."
"There, dear, there, Mr. Snyder'll see about it the first thing in the morning," said Mrs. Snyder.
But Eleanor kept repeating: "What has become of her? Poor little Bubbles!" She sobbed piteously, and for all Mrs. Snyder comforted her as best she could, it was a long time before she could go to sleep, and when she did her pillow was wet with tears.
Meantime, quite a stir was caused by Eleanor's long absence. Olive and Jessie returned home from school with the news that Eleanor had not been seen since eleven o'clock, when she was met by some of the girls on her way to Mrs. Wills'. Miss Reese had questioned the old woman who remembered that the little Dallas girl had been there. Yes, she had been there, and she had not stopped long; but Mrs. Wills said nothing about the bundle which Eleanor had left in her care and which she had taken away with her. The old woman had a very poor memory, at the best, and she was peculiar.
Miss Reese stopped to report the result of her inquiries to Mrs. Murdoch. "Just like the child," said the latter; "she delights to annoy me, and has taken this means of doing it. She probably wanted to play truant, and will be coming toward night, no doubt." Nevertheless, there was an undercurrent of anxiety, and some qualms of conscience regarding the child's real reason for going off in this stealthy way, and as the afternoon wore on and no Eleanor appeared, Mrs. Murdoch became more and more annoyed. "The child was left in my care," she said to Olive, "and her mother will censure me if anything happens to her. Do you and Donald hunt around the house and grounds for her, and I will send Jessie to the houses where she would be most likely to visit."
But after a thorough search, Olive, of course, reported that no Eleanor was to be found, and then, just as Mrs. Murdoch was really getting worked up into a state of nervous fear and dread, Miss Reese came in. "I have just received a little note from Eleanor," she said, "and she tells me that she has gone to find Bubbles." She handed the note to Mrs. Murdoch, who read it without a word, although under Miss Reese's quiet gaze, she flushed slightly.
"It is not always easy to understand children," said Miss Reese gently. "Often their little hearts are bleeding under an indifferent, and, often, defiant exterior. Eleanor has always had a life so full of love and sympathy that any lack of it would probably affect her more seriously than it would a less emotional child."
"I am sure I have tried to do my duty," said Mrs. Murdoch plaintively. "I have bathed her with my own hands more than once, and I have been most particular to see that she was properly clad, and I have seen to it that she had her study hour."
Miss Reese said only: "She is safe, at all events. I think that Dr. Sullivan goes out in that direction and perhaps, to-morrow, he will stop and bring her back with him. He is very fond of her, I know, and it would not be asking him to perform an unpleasant task. Shall I speak to him about it?"
"I shall be very much relieved if you will," returned Mrs. Murdoch, glad to see a way out of the difficulty; and Miss Reese departed. But next came word from Mr. Snyder that Eleanor was at his house, and that she was not well; Mrs. Snyder had a suspicion that she might be developing the whooping-cough. Perhaps she would best stay where she was till the truth could be learned from the doctor.