“Madge! Ma-adge! Ma-a-adge!”
“Adge! Adge! Adge!” said an echo from the distant grove.
“Where can she be!” cried Jessie, now relieved of her skates and standing on a hillock, peering eagerly all over the pasture.
“I guess she is only gone home. Never mind her,” said Carrie. “She ain’t worth worrying about.”
“Yes, she is,” replied Jessie. “She is a poor unhappy girl, and I want to make her good and happy. Uncle Morris says everybody that God made is worth caring about, and I do care for Madge. Oh dear, I wish I knew where to find her.”
“See there?” cried Guy, pointing to a group of boys near the distant grove. “I think I see Madge among those fellows. I’ll lose my guess if that isn’t Idle Jem and his crew. There’s a girl among them for certain, but how could Madge stroll all up there and none of us see or think of her?”
“Let us go and see,” said Jessie.
Quickly as their nimble fingers could loose the straps, Carrie and Guy removed their skates. In a minute or two more, the three were hurrying across the pasture toward the boys and girl, whom they saw.
Madge was, indeed, one of that group. Idle Jem and his crew, while wandering across the pasture in search of the hickory-nuts which were hidden under the dead leaves, had found her in the grove. They began to jibe at her at once. The girl long used to the rough news and beggar boys of the city, and out of temper, withal, jibed back at them with interest. They goaded her with harsh words; and when Guy and the girls came within hearing, she was using language such as the pure-minded Jessie had never heard before.
“Hush, Madge!” said Guy, putting his hand on Madge’s shoulder. “Don’t swear! It’s wicked to talk so. You go home with Jessie and Carrie, I’ll take care of these boys.”