“Been through the kitchens?” asked Philip, looking puzzled.
“I have,” said Mr. Collins. “They’re full of startled-looking servants who seemed to think I was a lunatic, or a gentleman burglar,—I don’t know which.”
“Well, of course she’s got to be found,” said Philip. “There’s no use looking in the obvious places, for Patty’s just cute enough to pick out a most unexpected hiding-place. Come on, Roger; you found your girl,—help me with mine.”
“Oh, it isn’t fair to have help,” said Hal. “Alone upon your quest you go!”
“Here I go, then.” And Philip ran upstairs three at a time. He went first to the attics, and made a systematic search of every hall, room, and closet. He even peeped into the great tank, as if Patty might have been transformed into a mermaid. Then followed a thorough search of the second story, with all its rambling ells and side corridors; he tiptoed through the nursery, smiling at the sleeping baby and casting a casual glance at the still figure on the couch with the long, white cap-strings falling to the floor.
On he went, through the various rooms, and at last, with slow step, came down into the hall again.
“I think she had one of those contraptions like the Peter Pan fairies,” he said, “and flew right out through the roof and up into the sky! But I haven’t searched this floor yet. May I go into the dining-room and kitchens, Mrs. Kenerley?”
“Everywhere,” said Adèle. “You know I made no reservations.”
Philip strode through the rooms, looked under the dining-room table and into the sideboard cupboards; on through the butler’s pantry, and into the kitchens. Needless to say, he found no Patty, and returned, looking more puzzled than ever.
“I’m not going down cellar,” he said. “Something tells me that Patty couldn’t possibly stay down there all this time! It’s more than an hour since she hid.”