I looked at Sarah.
"Have you seen him?" I asked, my heart standing very still.
Except for the sound of Loretta's noisy weeping, we were quite quiet.
"The Black Pond!" said Mrs. Goodrich, in a whisper.
"Don't!" said Sarah and I together.
For the Black Pond, Diary, up the road, is a wicked sheet of water, depthless and sinister.
I have never cursed my helplessness as I did then.
"Perhaps Jimmy Simpson...." I began. But Mrs. Goodrich interrupted me.
"Loretta has been to the Simpsons', Mavis. Jimmy is off with Sammy somewhere. No one has seen or heard of Peter since this morning. And we have not seen him since luncheon."