“It’s such a lonely road up to that farm,” he explained, “that if Mary Lou had sprained her ankle or hurt herself on the way, nobody might pass by for hours to give her help.”
Mrs. Gay was startled. It had not occurred to her that anything might have happened to her daughter. Mary Louise was always so self-reliant, and Shady Nook was such a safe place.
“You two people go,” said Jane. “I’ll stay here and wash the dishes. I want to squeeze some lemons, because some of the bunch are coming over here tonight—if that’s all right with you, Mrs. Gay.”
“Certainly it’s all right, dear. And Mary Lou will be delighted, too—I’m sure.”
Mrs. Gay backed the car out of the garage with Freckles in the seat beside her and drove slowly up the dirt road which led to Adams’ farm. The boy kept a sharp watch on both sides of the road, to make sure that his sister was not lying helpless along the way. Twice his mother stopped the car; and they both called Mary Louise’s name. But there was no response.
“She may just have stayed for supper with Hattie,” remarked Mrs. Gay. “And of course, since neither of us has a telephone, she couldn’t let us know. She’d think we wouldn’t worry so long as she got home before dark.”
“Oh, sure,” muttered the boy. But he was anxious: his mother didn’t know what had happened that morning.
They reached the Adams’ gate at last and got out of the car. Old Mr. Adams was sitting alone on the porch with one leg propped up on a chair.
“Good-evening, Mr. Adams,” began Mrs. Gay. “Is Mary Louise here? I’m her mother.”
“No, she ain’t,” replied the old man, taking the pipe out of his mouth.