“She isn’t there,” Mrs. Dore said in a quiet voice. “Nor in any one of the upstairs rooms. Now before you eat, children, scatter about the place and see if you can find her.”
“She’s run away,” Dicky asserted. “I told you she would.”
“I told her to go back for her dolly,” Molly reiterated gravely.
As Mrs. Dore had ordered, the children scattered. They searched the house, the Annex, the barn, the Tree House, the two gardens, and the adjacent trails. No Betsy! By this time, Floribel and Zeke, looking very serious, had joined in the search. Granny Flynn, obviously frightened, was wringing her hands. Mrs. Dore’s face had turned serious too, but she was quite mistress of herself.
“We’ll wait a few minutes,” she ordered slowly, “and then if we haven’t found her, we’ll telephone the Big House. In the meantime, Granny, you see that the children have their supper. The rest of you,” she addressed the Big Six, “must go without your supper for a while. I want you to help.”
The Big Six wanted to help of course. For a moment or two they wandered about aimlessly—a haphazard group; with Mrs. Dore and Floribel and Zeke trying to direct all at once. Suddenly Arthur Duncan took command of the situation. He ran into the house and emerged with his arms full of things; the cow-bell with which Floribel called the children to meals and four electric flash-lights. “Laura,” he commanded, handing her the cow-bell, “I want you to stand here at the door and ring this bell at regular intervals. I’m going to divide the rest of you into pairs and send you off in different directions. We’re losing time, all bunched together like this. Now Mrs. Dore, if you and Dicky will go to the Magic Mirror and hunt the woods there—and Floribel, you and Rosie take the House Rock direction. Zeke, you and Harold search in front, across the road. Maida and I’ll beat the woods back of the house. Remember, don’t any one of you go out of hearing of the bell. And if any of you find Betsy, come back and ring the bell hard—without stopping.”
The four pairs scattered, north, south, east and west. For a few moments Maida could hear the others crashing through the woods. She caught their voices ... getting farther and farther away ... calling “Betsy!” ... “Betsy!” ... fragments of sentences. Finally as she and Arthur plunged deeper and deeper into the forest, she got only broken blurred calls. At length these too died away. The silence of the immeasurable, immemorial forest closed about her and Arthur. The oncoming dusk seemed to be pouring like a great, gradual-growing flood upon them.
“There isn’t any chance of our losing Betsy forever, Arthur?” Maida asked once in a hushed voice.
“Not a chance,” Arthur answered. “If we don’t find her, your father will. In five minutes he can get enough men together to beat these woods. And by midnight they can cover every spot of them.”