“I reckon that’s about so,” remarked Blythe. “These greasers age mighty soon. Well, never mind his age, Miss Alison, we’ll follow the trail.”
They were off and the girls despatched Pedro to the performance of the morning duties while they took up their own tasks. They missed Louisa’s ready help and the chirruping song with which she enlivened her work, emphasizing the stirring up of flapjacks, the rolling out of biscuits or the scouring of a kettle by singing:
“Chirping little cricket
Singing in the thicket,
Chirping do not cease.”
“I certainly do miss the cricket this morning,” said Christine, as she wrung out the dish-cloth.
Alison smiled and glanced out of the window. “Yes, and I miss seeing Lou’s blue sunbonnet in the garden patch. Why, Tina, there it comes. It is Lou, as I live! She’s coming back!”
They flew to the door and beheld Louisa, indeed, plodding up the road. Seeing the two girls she snatched off her bonnet and waved it. “I’d know her blessed old red head if I didn’t know her bonnet,” said Alison. “I must go and meet her.” She ran out into the sunshine. “Oh, Lou, Lou,” she began before she reached the girl, “we were missing you so much. How good it is to see you back again. How did it happen that you came?”
Louisa sat down on the front step and began to fan herself with her sunbonnet. The day was approaching noon and was warm. She had walked far and rapidly. “He thought I’d better come back,” she said; “not for good, but for a little while till this all blows over. I thought I’d ought to stay and take care of him, but he said he’d an old Mexican there that was used to doing for him and he’d been worse off. When he gets better he’ll come for me. I got him safe home. I was afraid he was going to faint by the way, but he didn’t.”
“Bud and Blythe Van Dorn have gone after him.”