“Of course he’s a good boy, the best in the world,” she said. “Wherever he has gone, we can be sure it isn’t very far. We will have him back in a day or two. You just watch and see!”
The Major smiled and rested his hand for a moment on Dorothy’s bright hair.
“I hope so, Dorothy,” he said, adding with an unconscious wistfulness that touched Dorothy deeply: “Everything seems more hopeful now that we have you back, my dear. I can’t seem to do without my little daughter any more.”
“You won’t have to do without me ever, Daddy dear,” said Dorothy, and there were tears in her eyes and in her voice. Then, fearing that she had betrayed her anxiety over his changed appearance, she went on in her ordinary tone: “Don’t you think you could snatch a little rest, dear? I imagine you haven’t been sleeping very well lately.”
Major Dale stirred impatiently and again his restless glance sought the window.
“I don’t want to sleep,” he said on a querulous note that Dorothy had never heard before. “I won’t close my eyes again until we have found that boy.”
With a heavy heart Dorothy left the room and went in search of Roger, the youngest of the family and Joe’s shadow. The two boys were almost always together, for Roger worshiped his older brother and followed unquestioningly wherever he led.
Roger was in Joe’s abandoned room staring moodily out the window, and when he saw Dorothy he flung his arms about her neck and wept wildly despite a manful effort to control his grief.
Dorothy patted his small shoulder and waited until he shamefacedly wiped away the tears with a grubby hand, leaving a track of dirt from the corner of one blue eye to the opposite corner of his still-tremulous mouth.
Then she drew the lad down on Joe’s bed and gently questioned him.