Polly stole up to Flower and kissed her.
“I am glad you have come to learn of my father,” she said. “Now do tell me what we are to do for poor, poor Fly. Do you think David is guilty, and that he has got Fly to promise not to tell?”
“Yes, that is what I think. David must be found, and got to confess, and so release Fly of her promise before three o’clock. David is a dreadful boy to find when he takes it into his head to hide on purpose; but I must look for him, and in the meantime will you guard your father, Polly?”
“As a dragon,” said Polly. “You may trust me about that at least. I will go to his room at once to make all things safe, for there is really no trusting Aunt Maria when she has a scheme of vengeance with regard to that dog in her head. Good-by, Flower; I’m off to father.”
Polly turned away, and Flower ran quickly downstairs. She knew she had not a moment to lose, for David, as she expressed it, was a very difficult boy to find when he took it into his head to hide himself.
Flower had not been on the moor since that dreadful day when she had taken the baby away. So much had happened since then, so many dreadful things had come to pass, that she shuddered at the bare thought of the great and desolate moorland. Nevertheless she guessed that David would hide there, and without a moment’s hesitation turned her steps in the direction of Peg-Top Moor. She had walked for nearly half an hour, and had reached rather a broad extent of table-land, when she saw—their little figures plainly visible against the sky—two children, nearly a quarter of a mile away, eagerly talking together. There was not the least doubt as to their identity; the children—a boy and a girl—were David and Fly. Fly was holding David’s arm, and gesticulating and talking eagerly; David’s head was turned away. Flower quickened her steps almost into a run. If only she could reach the two before they parted; above all things, if she could reach them before David saw her!
Alas and alas! she was too late for this. David suddenly pushed his little companion a couple of feet away from him, and to all appearance vanished into the solid ground.
Fly, crying bitterly, began to run to meet Flower. Flower held out her arms as the little girl approached.
“What is it, Firefly? Tell me, has David confessed?”
“Oh, what do you know about it, Flower? Oh, what am I to do, what am I to do?”