For a full minute I stood quite still, paralyzed and helpless. This, surely, was the beginning of the end. Without Nanny, life was unthinkable—comfortless—void!
I gazed miserably at the wretched English winter outside, and it seemed to symbolize all the grayness and coldness of the future. It also drew my attention to the fact that Molly and Gran'pa had still to be found. Where were they? Where could they be?
I put on my hat and coat and hurried down the garden in the pouring rain.
"Molly!" I cried. "Where are you?"
The trees sighed and shook a deluge of tears on me.
"Confound the old fool!" I muttered, floundering through the mud and filth which surrounded the fowl-pens.
Even the hens themselves withdrew from my wrath.
"Are you there?" I clamored, thrusting my hand through the low doorway.
The only answer was a scurrying on the part of the feathered folk. . . .
I stood up again and looked around the deserted and sodden garden. As I did so, I saw a thin thread of blue smoke dismally ascending from the midst of the raspberry canes.