But let the reader rest assured that the old gentleman had not the slightest intention of discarding the fine boy, whom he loved as a second son.
CHAPTER XIV.
VANISHING OF AGNES.
They sought her that night and they sought her next day,
They sought her in vain ‘till a week passed away;
The highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot;
Her neighbors sought wildly, but found her not.
—Mistletoe Bough.
Days and weeks passed on, and brought Christmas, when an event occurred of so startling and inexplicable a nature as to fill the whole neighborhood with wonder.
Miss Joe’s preparations for Christmas were all made, with the exception of the turkey and the materials for the plum-pudding. Miss Joe’s turkeys had all been drowned in the great flood. Now, to have a roast turkey and a plum-pudding at Christmas was Miss Joe’s eleventh commandment of the Lord and fortieth article of the Episcopal faith. So she took two pairs of men’s woolen socks that she had just completed, donned her antiquated bonnet and shawl, and, taking Pontius Pilate as her negro body-servant, prepared to start for Huttontown to exchange her work with the village shopkeeper for raisins, currants, and spice, and money to purchase a turkey. Snow clouds were slowly condensing in the sky, but Miss Joe assured Agnes that she would be back long before it came on to snow.
And then, full of cheerful energy and anticipation, she set out.