“Probably I will, my boy. What is it?”
“I want you to come and take a walk with me.”
“But it’s nearly supper-time, Dicky; quite time for you to go and brush your hair, and put on a fresh collar. Where’s Dolly?”
“Oh, Aunt Rachel, please come,—it’s very important!”
Noticing the serious expression on Dick’s earnest little face, Aunt Rachel became frightened.
“What is the matter, Dick?” she exclaimed. “Has anything happened to Dolly? Has she hurt herself?”
“No; she hasn’t hurt herself; but come, please, Aunt Rachel,—do!”
Throwing a light shawl round her, Miss Rachel went with Dick, quite sure that some accident had befallen Dolly. It was quite a little walk to the woods, and Dick began to wonder whether Phyllis would have waited, or whether she would have become scared and gone home. She seemed like a timid little thing, and Dick well knew that Miss Rachel’s anger was a formidable thing to brave. He felt far from calm himself.
“Where are you taking me?” said Aunt Rachel, as they crossed the orchard.
“To the woods,” replied Dick, briefly; “Dolly is there.”