“You don’t know? She hasn’t told you? Why,” said the minister, half rising from his seat, “that’s not at all like Joyce to leave you in anxiety. Didn’t she tell you where she was going?”
“No,” sobbed Nan. “No, she didn’t tell us. She just walked out of the house without saying a word, and never came back. We thought of course she would come back pretty soon. She always did before when she got upset or angry—”
“Upset? Angry?” said the puzzled minister. “What, may I ask, what do you think she was angry at?”
“Oh, nothing at all, just a little thing. You know Joyce has a fearful temper. Or perhaps you don’t know it. Those quiet, mild people never do show up what they are till you come to live with them. Of course I don’t blame poor Joyce. She had to be on such a strain all the time poor mother was ill. She wouldn’t let a person but Joyce come near her, and it was almost more than the girl could bear. I sometimes used to be afraid she would go out of her mind before the end came, there were so many demands made upon her. And a young girl like that wants to have a good time, you know—”
“That doesn’t sound like Joyce—” The minister spoke gravely. “She was devoted to Mrs. Massey. You haven’t known her as long as I have. She was only a tiny child when I came here, you know, and Mother and I—we loved her. She was like our little one that was taken away.”
“Yes, I know, she was attractive,” Nan hastened to say, mopping her eyes daintily. “And she liked to pose as a dutiful daughter. Still, you know, Doctor Ballantine, a girl likes a good time. I knew you thought a good deal of her and were interested in her welfare and all, and that’s why I came to you. I haven’t told my husband I was coming. I don’t know what he would say if he knew. He’s very proud and independent, and he feels this thing keenly. But I just thought I would come to you to see if you couldn’t help find Joyce. You know her friends and know her so well. I thought you might know some place to look for her that hasn’t occurred to us. We have been here so short a time. But you mustn’t tell my husband. You must promise me that before we begin.”
“It’s never a good thing for a woman to hide a thing from her husband,” said the minister, still gravely. “Mrs. Massey, my advice to you is to go home and tell your husband you have spoken to me before you tell me anything more about it. Then if he wishes me to be in your confidence further we can go on from there.”
“Oh, Doctor Ballantine!” broke out Nan afresh with frightened tears. “I couldn’t possibly do that. You see he is so sensitive about it because it was his words that made Joyce angry. He told her, very kindly—he always speaks gently in his family—and I was right in the room when he did it. I heard every word. There wasn’t the least reason in the world for her to get angry, only she was just in the mood for it. She’s very temperamental, you know. He asked her to please not let her electric light burn all night, that the bill had just come in and was pretty large, and we must all try to remember and turn the lights out whenever they were not needed. Now you know there wasn’t anything in that to make a girl get furious and stamp her foot and fling herself out of the kitchen in a pet. I was just putting on dinner when she went, and I thought of course she would come back pretty soon. She always did before. But this time she didn’t. I suppose she must have been waiting for us to come out and coax her back, but we thought it wisest for her not to run after her, for we had noticed ever since Mother’s death that she showed a tendency to get into a huff and stay there, and we thought if we just went quietly about and ignored her temper she would come out of it sooner. That’s the way we always do with the children.”
She paused for encouragement, but the Doctor, with set lips and stern eyes, was watching her, saying nothing. Nan began to catch her breath again in a trembling sob, and went on:
“When it began to get dark I got worried and told Gene he simply must go out to the barn and bring her in. It was too damp and chilly for her to stay out there after dark. That was where she always went when she got in a pet, and we expected, of course, to find her in her usual place. But when Gene went out with his flashlight there wasn’t a trace of her anywhere, and he came back all upset.”