From that moment, Dave was Jean's abject slave; and, if the proofs of his devotion were not always welcome, they at least proved numerous.
CHAPTER VII
Delivered by Dave
BY this time, of course, the mothers, Aunty Jane, the solitary grandmother, and even the fathers, were decidedly alarmed; for morning disclosed the disquieting fact that the Whale was still missing.
Mrs. Slater thought that somebody ought to call up the police; Mrs. Tucker suggested sending the militia forth on horseback to scour the surrounding country. Aunty Jane advised ringing the fire bell.
"All nonsense," blustered Doctor Bennett, more worried than he was willing to admit; but, since all the alarmed ladies, singly and collectively, had appealed to him for advice, it was necessary of course to appear as unconcerned as possible. "All nonsense, I say. If Mr. Black has had an accident with his car he probably doesn't care to have the fact advertised. Nor do we want the whole town worrying about our children. Be reasonable. There isn't a road in the country that crosses a railroad track; there isn't an inch of road anywhere about that skirts any dangerous declivity. The Whale might get stuck in some swamp or stalled in the sand or lose a tire or run short of gasoline. In any of those cases, they'd take refuge somewhere, while waiting for repairs. Folks with automobiles often get held up for a night. There's just one thing for us to do. That is, to wait. Go home, everybody, and wait."
So, only partly relieved of their fears, though frequently upheld by encouraging Doctor Bennett, these good people waited throughout the long, dreary day.