“I’ll be all right, dear,” she replied. “And you go along. Mary Lou knows your whistle better than anything else, and if she is somewhere in the woods, you’ll surely find her.... Go, dear!”
Freckles ran off, and a systematic search of all the country around Shady Nook began: with lanterns and flashlights and whistles, interspersed by frequent calls from the boys and girls. But as the darkness grew deeper and the silence of the woods more intense, an increasing sense of alarm took hold of all the searchers. Joking and laughter ceased; the only singing that broke out was forced, because someone thought it might help find Mary Louise. But it was all in vain.
Midnight came, and the various groups made their way back to Shady Nook, tired, hungry, and disheartened. Mrs. Gay and Mr. and Mrs. Reed and the three Partridge women were all still sitting on the Gays’ porch, hopefully waiting for news. But they knew from the slow, silent manner of the young people’s return that they had not been successful.
“Make us some coffee, and we’ll begin all over again,” said Stuart Robinson. “Mary Lou must be somewhere!”
Mrs. Gay shook her head.
“No, I think you better all go to bed. The children must have their sleep. In the morning the police will come. Perhaps they will have some news for us.”
“If only we hadn’t let Tom Adams get away from us!” muttered Horace Ditmar. “We went back to Adams’ and got the old man out of bed to try to learn Tom’s address. But he said he didn’t know it, and I’m inclined to believe he was speaking the truth.”
Even in her half-frenzied state, Mrs. Gay looked at the young architect and thought what an admirable man he was. How anyone could have thought him guilty of any crime was more than she could understand. He was more help to her in the crisis than anyone else—except Freckles.
So, accepting Mrs. Gay’s advice, the group dispersed to their own cottages, intending to continue the search the following morning.