“That would be publishing to the world Joe’s connection—if there is one—with the Haskell store fire,” she said. “And, for Joe’s sake, that is the last thing any of us wants to happen.”
“But meantime something dreadful may happen to the boy—he is only a boy, after all, Aunt Winnie,” wailed Dorothy. “He may be in danger——”
“He hasn’t met with any accident, we are sure of that,” Mrs. White interrupted reassuringly. “And if he has run away, thinking that he might be connected in some way with the fire, he will return when he thinks the alarm has died down.”
“But in the meantime he may be in danger,” reiterated Dorothy. “It seems dreadful to have a boy of Joe’s age roaming around the world alone and unprotected. Aunt Winnie, we must do something. We must!”
“We are doing something, dear,” Mrs. White reminded her soothingly. “Ned and Nat are leaving no stone unturned to discover the whereabouts of the lad and they are not going to stop hunting until they find him. And now go back to your father, my dear,” she added. “You seem to be the only one who can content him just now.”
“No one knows what may happen to Daddy if we don’t find Joe soon!” muttered Dorothy, as she turned to leave the room.
It seemed that Dorothy Dale had her full share of trouble just then but, as it happened, fate had still a little more in store for her. And, indeed, it would probably have been the straw too much if Tavia, with her native tact, had not kept the worry from her.
For Roger, the youngest of the family, had felt Joe’s disappearance more keenly perhaps than any of the others, because he had less philosophy to bear his sorrows.
And since his admission to Dorothy that his brother had been in the company of Jack Popella on the day of the fire, his conscience had troubled him rather badly and his one thought was to get Joe and beg his pardon for his perfidy before some one else could tell him of it.
With this thought in mind, Roger started out bravely and manfully to find his older brother. He left the house early in the afternoon, presumably to play with some of the neighborhood children, and his prolonged absence was not remarked till nearly dinner time.