“I’ll go and hunt for them,” said Phronsie merrily. “Come, Amy, let us find those babies.”
So Amy Loughead and Phronsie picked up their skirts and sped over the terraces, King racing on ahead, all three calling, “Bar-by! Ely-ot!” at the top of their voices.
“There, they aren’t here, you can see for yourself,” said King, turning a hot and flushed face upon them after a while.
“No,” said Phronsie, the pink color deserting her cheek, “I see they are not, King.” Then, as he began to look frightened, she brightened up, and said cheerily, “Do you run up to the house, Amy dear, and get the horn from Mrs. Higby; then, King, you shall blow it, and that’ll surely bring them back.”
“I’m going to get brother Joel first,” cried King, scampering off in the direction of the stables.
“And tell him to set Patsy to hunting on the grounds,” called Phronsie after him.
But despite the vigorous horn-blowing presently set up, King puffing out his cheeks with all his might, and Patsy and two or three of the other stable-men scouring the grounds, headed by Joel; and notwithstanding that Phronsie and Amy ran hither and thither spreading the alarm, till Polly and nearly all the guests in the house were just so many searching-parties, exploring the little brown house and every other place that would be likely to attract the children, no trace of the two children could be found. And King threw himself disconsolately into Phronsie’s arms, crying as if his heart would break.
Miss Salisbury was up on the front veranda; she so far forgot herself as to wring her hands, when she thought no one observed her.
“O Miss Salisbury!” cried Amy Loughead, running up, “will you be so very good as to tell Aunt Montgomery that I’m going down the road to hunt for the children. I may not be back, you know, for some time.”
“Hey, what’s that?” cried Robert Bingley, sauntering along the side veranda. He was waiting for the assembling of the driving-party, and hadn’t heard a word of the bad news.