“O, what is it?” cried Fayette Locey, running out to the wagon, while her companion followed more slowly, looking rather annoyed than anxious.
“O, it ain’t nothing to be scared at, only Mr. Ford and Dick ain’t to home. They’ve gone over to the cattle sale at Elmira, and young Mis’ Ford she’s there alone, with only your aunt, and the hired man, and the baby.”
“Is the baby sick?” asked Fayette, troubled.
“No, not the baby.”
“Will you be good enough to tell us at once what is the matter?” said Helen Ford, speaking for the first time with a sort of cold irritation and a certain dignity which Carlos, though it rather awed him, resented as “stuck up.”
“Ye see,” said Carlos, letting the reins hang loose over the backs of the two old farm horses, “I was a-going past your house this morning, and I knew you was down here, and I thought your folks might have something to send.”
“You were very kind,” said Fayette; but Helen made no sign.
“I see young Mis’ Ford, and she said the old lady was kind of ailin’, and the men folks being away, and no one but Hiram, she felt kind of lonesome.”
“Did she send you for us?” asked Helen.
“No, not jest. She said the old lady might be going to have one of her bad spells, and as I was coming down to the corners I might tell you, and you could act your judgment, though she didn’t want to disappoint you of your visit. I could see she was consid’rable anxious.”