“No, there was no stray animal there, but Dr. Kilton would have a thorough search made in their neighborhood.”
But Dr. Kilton was a far cry from being a fool. Why should Miss Woodhull think a runaway horse had run all that distance? And if he had Dr. Kilton was fully convinced that he had not run riderless. He had not forgotten that October runaway. Moreover, he had detected a repressed excitement in the voice over that phone. He very quietly conferred with Mrs. Kilton and that lady was quite as quick-witted as her spouse. They decided to maintain a discreet silence, but to make some quiet inquiries. A few hours later Smedes, the Doctor’s body servant, was sent upon an errand to the little village nearest Leslie Manor, and Smedes knew every servant at that school. When he returned Dr. and Mrs. Kilton became considerably wiser regarding the true facts of the case, but decided to say nothing to Beverly’s brother for the present. But they kept in constant communication with Leslie Manor, via Smedes and Jefferson.
Far and wide did Leslie Manor send messages and messengers. No horse was to be found. In the school chaos reigned, and the usual Sunday decorum and peace went by the board completely. Some of the girls were rebellious, some hysterical, some scolded and some wept silently, and to a unit they all blamed Miss Woodhull for the situation. Mrs. Bonnell and several of the teachers were wholly indignant that she had not instantly communicated with Beverly’s family, as was obviously her duty. Mrs. Bonnell openly urged it. Miss Woodhull pooh-poohed the idea. “Beverly would come back when she recovered from her fit of sulks, and would be properly punished for her conduct by expulsion. She had already transgressed to a degree to warrant it, and had been warned the evening before to that effect. (“Ah,” breathed Mrs. Bonnell at this admission). Communicate with Beverly’s people? Absurd! Why magnify such a trivial matter? Girls had made believe to run away from the school before, and would doubtless do so again. They invariably ran back again and Beverly would do likewise when she got ready. She was probably with some friend in the neighborhood. She was in the habit of forming friendships with all sorts and conditions of people. That her horse was also gone might be a mere coincidence, or else she was trying to frighten them all, and would come riding back by sundown. She was capable of almost any insubordination, and rising at dawn and riding off somewhere was merely a fresh demonstration of it.”
That Miss Woodhull was merely “whistling to keep her courage up” all well knew.
But sunset failed to bring the runaway, and Kilton Hall knew of this fact right speedily. Then Athol was called to the Doctor’s study and the facts told him. The boy was thunderstruck, and blurted out:
“It’s that old harridan!” then blushed crimson. Dr. and Mrs. Kilton did not reprove the outbreak, but pardoned it upon the ground of excitement.
“You would better call up your uncle at once, Athol. I do not wish to interfere, or criticise, but I know what I should wish if it were my daughter,” said Mrs. Kilton.
“Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Kilton, I’ll do it right off,” and he hurried into the little room at the end of the hall where the phone stood, Mrs. Kilton following, while the Doctor wondered what the next move must be. A moment later he joined them. Athol soon had Woodbine on the wire and then ensued a funny, one-sided conversation.
“Oh, Uncle Athol, is that you?”