The words were no sooner out of Mrs. Benton’s mouth than she regretted them. At the name of “mother” Mrs. Trent’s forced gayety vanished, and she lifted her eyes to her companion’s face with a pitiful appeal.
“Aunt Sally, what has happened to Jessica?”
“Nothing, honey. Nothing in the world. What a master hand you are to worry.”
The lady rose so hastily that the dish upon her lap slid to the floor, and the other laughed:
“There, Gabriel, you do beat all. If I’d dropped that dish ’twould have upset, and every slice of citron in it rolled whithrety-yonder. But for you––it knew better; just slipped off as slick as could be, landed right side up, and not a morsel scattered. Seem’s if dirt nor nothin’ disorderly ever could come a-nigh you, honey.”
Mrs. Trent did not even hear. Upon her face had grown a look that hurt Aunt Sally to see; the more because the feeling it expressed was continually increasing within her own heart.
Where could Jessica be? Many hours had passed since she vanished from the laundry window, and if she had gone upon any errand for her “boys,” she would have returned long since. Also, she would be swift to restore the missing clothes of the little boys, as soon as found, for she knew they would be prisoners within doors till she had done so.
“Don’t you worry, I tell you, Gabriella. I’ll take the great horn and blow a blast will fetch the whole kerboodle back here, hot foot. If that don’t, I’ll ring the mission bell! That’ll mean trouble, sure 28 enough, and its dreadful racket’ll reach clear to Los Angeles, ’pears.”
The mother crossed to the lattice and leaned against its post. Something was wrong with her darling. She knew that as well as if she had been told so by word of mouth, and a dreadful numbness stole over her whole frame. As if in a dream, she saw Aunt Sally emerge from the lean-to, where the great horn was kept, and raised the thing to her lips; but the blast which followed seemed to have been ringing in her ears forever. The silence that succeeded lasted but a moment, yet was like an eternity. Then from one direction, and another, came the ranchmen, understanding that there was need of their presence at the “house,” and each quickly catching something of the fear so plainly depicted upon the faces of the waiting women.
“John Benton, where’s ‘Lady Jess’?” demanded Aunt Sally, with terrible sternness.