There was no answer. Irene was sure he had gone with his sister and Mary Louise thought he had gone with Ben.
“Maybe he went home,” suggested Ben. The Elletts lived in a tiny apartment across the street from Mr. and Mrs. Conant.
“But he knew we were to have tea here,” objected Ursula, who had turned deathly pale. “But maybe you had better go see, Ben, and oh, please hurry!”
“Sure I will, Sister, you needn’t get scairt. Phil ain’t far away. I reckon he’ll turn up before I get to the corner an’ I’ll have the run for nothin’—but I ain’t mindin’.”
“Dear Ben!” Ursula smiled on the sturdy boy, in spite of the nameless terror that possessed her soul in regard to the little brother.
“If only I didn’t know that Fitchet was in Dorfield!” Ursula whispered to Josie.
“Well, maybe it’s a good thing you do know it,” said Josie. “Everybody turn in and give a good hunt through the shop.”
Mary Louise and Elizabeth, with the other girls helping, had already looked high and low, under the bed in Josie’s room, behind an antique high-boy for sale in the shop, and had even shaken the draperies lying across a table and peeped in a carved Florentine chest.
At first it was more or less a game all were playing, as they were sure the little fellow was somewhere in the shop, but as a thorough search did not reveal him, the matter began to take on a more serious tone and the game was changed.
Without a word, Josie hurried to her old friend, Chief Lonsdale. Quickly she told him her errand.