Aunt Katie, the prettiest auntie, cut off a thick round of melon as they arose from the table, and put it in the refrigerator for Emmy Lou. “It seems a joke,” she remarked, “such a baby as Emmy Lou going to school anyhow; but then she has only a square to go and come.”
But Emmy Lou did not come. And by half-past two Aunt Louise, the youngest auntie, started out to find her. But as she stopped on the way at the houses of all the neighbors to inquire, and ran around the corner to Cousin Tom Macklin’s to see if Emmy Lou could be there, and then, being but a few doors off, went on around that corner to Cousin Amanda’s, the school-house, when she finally reached it, was locked up, with the blinds down at every front window as if it had closed its eyes and gone to sleep. Uncle Michael had a way of cleaning and locking the front of the building first, and going in and out at the back doors. But Aunt Louise did not know this, and, anyhow, she was sure that she would find Emmy Lou at home when she got there.
But Emmy Lou was not at home, and it being now well on in the afternoon, Aunt Katie and Aunt Louise and the lady visitor and the cook all started out in search, while Aunt Cordelia sent the house-boy downtown for Uncle Charlie. Just as Uncle Charlie arrived—and it was past five o’clock by then—some of the children of the neighborhood, having found a small boy living some squares off who confessed to being in the First Reader with Emmy Lou, arrived also, with the small boy in tow.
“She didn’t know ‘dog’ from ‘frog’ when she saw ’em,” stated the small boy, with the derision of superior ability, “an’ teacher, she told her to stay after school. She was settin’ there in her desk when school let out, Emmy Lou was.”
But a big girl of the neighborhood objected. “Her teacher went home the minute school was out,” she declared. “Isn’t the new lady, Mrs. Samuels, your teacher?” this to the small boy. “Well, her daughter, Lettie, she’s in my room, and she was sick, and her mother came up to our room and took her home. Our teacher, she went down and dismissed the First-Readers.”
“I don’t care if she did,” retorted the small boy. “I reckon I saw Emmy Lou settin’ there when we come away.”
Aunt Cordelia, pale and tearful, clutched Uncle Charlie’s arm. “Then she’s there, Brother Charlie, locked up in that dreadful place—my precious baby——”
“Pshaw!” said Uncle Charlie.
But Aunt Cordelia was wringing her hands. “You don’t know Emmy Lou, Charlie. If she was told to stay, she has stayed. She’s locked up in that dreadful place. What shall we do, my baby, my precious baby——”
Aunt Katie was in tears, Aunt Louise in tears, the cook in loud lamentation, Aunt Cordelia fast verging upon hysteria.