“She’s gug-gug-gone, Squire Look!” Mayo managed to squeak.
The lawyer shook the paper to free it of the egg, looking ruefully toward his bowl as he did so. Then he read the note, his brows knotting.
“Deer Wart: my laddy mother has come for me & i have had to go with hur. i have gorn into a brighter wurld. soe yon needent hunt for me corse i shant ever be found, with love Rissy.”
“She’s dead,” squalled the husband, staggering to his feet. “She’s jumped into the water somewhere. You know ev’rything, Squire.7 You’re the only friend I’ve truly got to find her for me.” He seized the lawyer by the arm and tried to drag him away.
“Sit down, I tell you!” commanded the Squire, and again he thrust the young man down into the chair. He read the letter again.
“Have you shown this to anyone else?” he demanded.
“No, not to a soul. I’ve run right to you, Squire. I know you can find her, but she’s dead. Oh, where has she gone?”
“She may have gone straight up or she may have gone straight down,” growled the lawyer. “What are you sitting there gaping and goggling like that for? When did she go? When did you miss her? Did she take her clothes?”
“I woke up this morning and found her gone,” wailed the youth. “She went in the night. She’s dead. She’s gone with her lady mother jest as she said she’d do.”
“If you ever say lady mother to me again I’ll cuff your ears,” stormed the Squire. “Or if you mention this to anyone until I give you permission I’ll boot you clear to Brickett’s store and back again. Do you think you understand that?”