The old lady went alone, and once gone she sent no word back to tell how she fared on her quest. Now that her nephew was missing, she had no immediate family; and she wrote to none of her townsfolk. The spring opened into summer as a bud into a flower, and life at Tuskamuck went on with its various interests, but no one was able to do more than to speculate upon her movements or her success.
One afternoon in June the Soldiers’ Aid Society came together for its weekly gathering in the vestry. The meeting had been appointed at the house of the Widow Turner, but Nancy Turner had been suddenly called out of town, and her mother, somewhat of an invalid, had not felt equal to the task of entertaining without her. The bare room, with its red pulpit and yellow settees, had a forlorn look, despite the groups of busy women and girls scattered over it; but its chilling influence could not check the flow of conversation.
“Did you hear where Nancy Turner’s gone?” one woman asked of the group in which she sat. “She must have gone very suddenly.”
“I understood there was sickness somewhere,” another responded vaguely.
“Maybe it’s her aunt over at Whitneyville,” a third suggested. “Mis’ Turner told me in the spring she was real feeble.”
“Mis’ Turner herself ’s real frail. She did n’t feel well enough to come this afternoon.”
“Where ’s Aunt Naomi?” inquired Mrs. Cummings. “It’s ’most five o’clock, and she almost always comes about three.”
“Oh,” responded Mrs. Wright, with a laugh and her quick, bright glance, “you may depend upon it she’s getting news somewhere. She’ll come in before we go home, with something wonderful to tell.”
As if in intentional confirmation of the words, Aunt Naomi at that moment appeared in the doorway. Her shrewd old face showed satisfaction in every wrinkle, and from beneath the unfailing veil of green barège draped from her bonnet over the upper left-hand corner of her face her eyes positively twinkled. She took a deliberate survey of the room, and then with her peculiar rocking gait moved to the group which had been discussing her absence.
“Good afternoon, Aunt Naomi,” Mrs. Cummings greeted her. “We were just wondering what had become of you.”