THE MIDNIGHT SEARCHING PARTY
The night was growing late and there were anxious hearts at “Roderick’s.” The four-in-hand had arrived hours before, and Silent Pete had also brought his party safely in—to the mutual relief of himself and Miss Milliken, the latter really surprised to find she had arrived sound in body and limb. She had promptly retired to the little chamber assigned herself and Helena, only to reappear in fresh distress.
“My suit-case with my night-things! I can’t find it anywhere. The one they gave me has a lot of boys’ things in it-all jumbled together. I’d like my suit-case, please. I’m worn out with that awful ride and if I’ve got to repeat it to-morrow, I must get to rest;” but as the buxom maid to whom she appealed paid her scant attention, she turned to Helena with her wail: “Oh, Miss Helena! Won’t you make them give me the right case?”
The emphasis put on the “won’t” suggested a desperate need, but merely annoyed her young mistress, who requested:
“Don’t make a nuisance of yourself, Milly. The loss of a suit-case is nothing compared to—Oh! if Dolly were only safely here!”
“She will be, of course. Haven’t I, with my nerves, lived through that ride? But, you don’t understand, dear, I want my things. I can’t wear a boy’s pajamas—all mussed up, at that. I want, I want to go to bed.”
“Then, for goodness’ sake—go!” cried Monty Stark, who had come up to the pair. “That’ll give us a rest, too.”
“I shall have to sit up all night, then,” still moaned the lady, “for your case isn’t to be found either, Miss Helena.”
Then finding no greater sympathy from her mistress than from that saucy boy, the governess betook herself out of the way. She was the only one of the party which had so gaily left Denver that now cared for anything except the appearance down the road of the missing buckboard.
Molly and Leslie, congenial spirits, had tried to laugh off their anxiety and to convince the others that everything was “all right, of course.”