Kerley stood at the telephone scratching his head, a wry smile on his lips.
“I believe that giggle meant that she called me a liar,” he announced to his immortal soul. A reminiscent light beamed in his eyes. “She hasn’t changed in the past fifteen years—little spitfire!”
For half an hour Miss Virginia found something else to think about besides her wandering brother, but as the evening wore on, and he did not appear, she began to get uneasy again.
“That dang boy has played hookey and gone out in the woods with that pickaninny,” Colonel Gaitskill announced.
“Oh, maybe he’s lost in the swamp!” Virginia gasped.
“No danger of that,” Gaitskill said easily. “These little niggers around here can go across that swamp like a fox. They can’t get lost.”
But as the shadows lengthened across the Gaitskill lawn the women of the household were thrown into a panic. They insisted that it was not a natural or ordinary thing for Orren to miss his meals; that a hungry boy might be having a very good time at some amusement, but he would always be willing to postpone his play to eat, resuming his play after this meal.
“That’s so,” Gaitskill admitted. “When I was a boy nothing was ever more attractive to me than the consumption of food, and I enjoy being regular at my meals now. But, maybe he ate his lunch somewhere else?”
By telephone they made inquiry of every place where they thought Orren could have eaten. He had not been seen at any of those places.
Gaitskill saw that he was going to have to get out and hunt that boy. The prospect did not appeal to him. That boy was a nuisance. If he was lost, it was good riddance. He wasn’t worth finding—let him find himself. He went to the telephone and called up Captain Kerley Kerlerac.