As the rheumatic old man was unable to give them news of Peggy, the girls returned to their companions at a pace which unconsciously grew more and more rapid, as they discussed the situation. “Good joke on Peggy,” Ruth said with a little laugh. “Because she’s always the one that’s on hand, no matter who’s late.”
“Yes, it’s certainly a joke on Peggy.” And Priscilla also laughed with a determined heartiness. But with all her air of amusement, she was conscious of a vague uneasiness.
Just as they reached the knoll they were met by Amy and Elaine. “She’s out in one of the canoes,” Amy said quickly, before the others could explain that their search had been without success.
“Oh!” Priscilla’s sigh was expressive of relief. “Well, she’d better come in now. The old man has harnessed, and it’s quite a little after five.”
“We couldn’t see her anywhere.” Elaine took up the story as Amy was silent. “But one of the canoes is gone, so, of course, she’s taken Dorothy for a little ride.”
The girls were chattering like blackbirds as they went down the slope to the river. Elaine recalled Peggy’s fondness for the water, and Amy remarked that it was almost a relief to have Peggy behindhand for once, she had such a mania for looking out for everybody else. The other girls contributed observations equally important, and each tried to hide from the others, if not from herself, the fact that her persistent and voluble cheerfulness was designed to silence the uneasy whisperings of an anxiety that was waxing stronger, moment by moment.
Aunt Abigail was standing at the water’s edge, straining her old eyes this way and that. For the first time that summer she looked her full age.
“Call again, girls!” she commanded peremptorily. “It isn’t at all like Peggy to be so late, and worry us this way. I don’t like it.”
It was really a relief to have some one voice an anxiety so that they could all unite in demonstrating its utter unreasonableness. But to relieve Aunt Abigail’s mind, they shouted in chorus, “Peggy! Peg-gy Raymond!” and heard as they listened, the echo repeating their summons more and more faintly with each reiteration. That was all. No answering cheery hail. No musical dip of the paddle in the stream.
It was during one of these tense moments of listening that Elaine started violently, and in spite of the sunburn, which in her case had not had time to deepen into tan, she turned pale. Instantly she was bombarded by excited questions.