"Miss Dorothy—where is Miss Dorothy?—do you hear me, Miss Packingham?—do you hear me, Master Willy?—speak, won't you?—has she fallen off one of these brutes?—is she—is she—Master Willy—Miss Ella—Miss Irene!"
Then Ella turned from giving a parting pat to her donkey, and seeing Ingleby's distressed face, said,—
"Dorothy did not come with us; she is not hurt?"
"Oh, Miss Ella, Miss Ella!" exclaimed poor Ingleby, holding up her hands and sinking back against the wall. "Oh, Miss Ella, Miss Ella! oh, Miss Irene!"
"Why, what is the matter, Mrs. Ingleby?" said Crawley, who had set down Baby Bob to toddle into the house, and was settling the payment for the donkeys with Marietta. "Why, you look like a ghost."
"Miss Dorothy! Miss Dorothy! Where can she be?"
"Well, she is safe enough, isn't she?"
"No," said Ingleby; "she is gone! she is lost! she is lost!—and oh, what will become of me?"
"Lost!" the children all repeated; "she can't be lost."
And then they all ran into the house, and Lady Burnside, who was sitting with Constance in the room upstairs came hurriedly down.