But not a trace of Dollie could be found, nor was Mr. Lawson, their boarder, to be found on the premises.
Marion set her teeth hard when she made this discovery.
“They’ve gone together! He’s took her!” whined Mrs. Marlowe. “He’s run off with my darter! the scallywag!” bawled Deacon Marlowe, but Marion only clenched her hands and bit her lips. It was horrible to think of Dollie in the clutches of her insulter.
“What shall you dew, father?” asked Mrs. Marlowe, at last.
“Dunno,” said her husband, a little absently. “I calkerlate, tho’, I’ll jest ler ’er go! ’Pears tew me that’s about what she desarves, the for’ard critter!”
Marion Marlowe’s eyes flashed as she heard this decision, but she did not deign to make any answer.
Going straight to the old chest behind the kitchen door, she opened the lid and began overhauling its contents.
“What dew you want in there?” asked her father, suspiciously.
“I want grandma’s topazes,” she said very firmly. “I am going to sell them to Widow Pearson; you know she always wanted them, and the money will enable me to hunt for Dollie!”
“Yew sha’n’t tech them!” cried both her mother and father at once.