Then Miss Priscilla called the servants.
“The little girl is hiding somewhere,” she explained, “and she must be found.”
“Yes, ’m,” Bridget said; and she began systematically to search the house from attic to cellar.
Matthew shook his old head doubtfully.
“I’m thinkin’ yez’ll niver find her,” he said. “She was a spookish piece, an’ the likes of her flies up chimbleys an’ out of windies an’ niver appears ag’in.”
Martha, much mystified, stared helplessly around the room, and in doing so noticed a bit of paper pinned to the pin-cushion.
She handed it to Miss Priscilla, who read:
Aunty, Aunty, Do not look for me;
Until you send that man away, I’ll stay just where I be.
“Oh,” groaned Miss Priscilla, “what can I do? We must find her!”