Deirdre's sobbing subsided.
There was a heavy step outside. Donald Cameron opened the kitchen door.
"What's this?" he asked, looking down on the huddled heap on the floor that was Deirdre. He glanced questioningly from his wife to Davey.
"It's the Schoolmaster's little girl!" Mrs. Cameron explained. "She's never been away from him before, and—"
"Well, we can't have this noise in the place," he said irritably.
Deirdre had looked up at the sound of that harsh voice. The sight of Davey's father quelled her.
"Take her away and see that she gets ready for tea, Davey," Mrs. Cameron said anxiously.
Although Deirdre made no more noise, she sat shivering and quivering all the evening, her eyes vacant of all but an inexpressible misery, her thin little body shaken by long, gasping breaths. Mrs. Cameron tried to comfort and console her, talking to her gently and lovingly as she put her to bed, but the child's mind was adamant.
"I want Dan! I want Dan!" she sobbed.
And in the morning when Mrs. Cameron went into her room, the window was open and the little white bed empty.