“I am almost sure,” answered May. “Oh, father, it is such a dreadful, dreadful sight!”
“In that case I had better ride over and break it to poor Wray. Why, she was a fine, handsome, merry girl; how ever can such a thing have happened?”
While the father and daughter were speaking, and Mr. Churchill was considering what it would be best to do, to their surprise and pain James Wray, the landlord of the Wayside Inn, was seen approaching in a small dog-cart in great haste toward the house. He pulled up when he recognized the Churchills, and they saw that his face was pale and agitated.
“You’ve not seen or heard anything of my girl, have ye?” he asked, excitedly, addressing Mr. Churchill, whose eyes fell uneasily as he spoke. “She left home last night, and has never come back. I’m on my way to the station, and if I hear nothing of her there I must get the police.”
“Come into the house a few minutes, Mr. Wray,” answered Mr. Churchill, feelingly; “perhaps I may have some news for you.”
James Wray sprang from the dog-cart and grasped the farmer’s hand.
“Not bad!” he cried, “don’t say bad news about my girl! What is it, man? What do you know?”
CHAPTER IX.
DRAWN CLOSER.
“You had better come into the house,” again urged Mr. Churchill; “my daughter here may have something to tell you.”