Dan began to be thoroughly alarmed. If Nancy had gone out, the dogs would certainly have followed her. She must be within!
He went back into the house, and searched room after room, but no trace of her was to be found. He returned at last to his mother's chamber.
"I can't find Nancy," he said. "She must have gone off somewhere."
"Gone off! why, she must have left very early then. I have been awake these two hours—since daylight—; I would have heard every sound."
"Well, she isn't about now, Mother. She will be back by breakfast time, I don't doubt. Just stay abed this morning, I will send her to you as soon as she comes."
"I shall have to, I suppose. Really, Dan, it is extraordinary how neglectful of me that child can sometimes be. She knew—"
"Mother, don't find fault with her. She is devoted to you, and you know it."
"I daresay she is. Of course she is, and I am devoted to her. Where would she be, I wonder, if it hadn't been for me? Good heavens! Dan, can anything have happened to her?"
"No, no—of course not,—nothing."
"Search the house, boy; she may be lying some place in a faint. She isn't strong—I have always been worried—"