"And she has never been known to stay out so late; and—and the tide is coming in," cried Violet, sinking pale and trembling into a chair. "Oh, mamma, if she is drowned, how shall I answer to my husband for taking so little care of his child?"
"My dear daughter, don't borrow trouble," Elsie said cheerfully, though her own cheek had grown very pale; "it was in my care he left her, not in yours."
"Don't fret, Vi," Edward said; "I don't believe she's drowned; she has more sense than to go where the tide would reach her; but I'll go at once to look for her, and engage others in the search also."
He started for the door.
"She may be out on the moors, Ned," called Zoe, running after him with his waterproof coat. "Here, put this on."
"No time to wait for that," he said.
"But you must take time," she returned, catching hold of him and throwing it over his shoulders; "men have to obey their wives once in awhile; Lu's not drowning; don't you believe it; and she may as well get a wetting as you."
Grace, hiding her head in Violet's lap, was sobbing bitterly, the latter stroking her hair in a soothing way, but too full of grief and alarm herself to speak any comforting words.
"Don't cry, Gracie; and, Vi, don't look so distressed," said Betty. "Lulu, like myself, is one of those people that need never be worried about—the bad pennies that always turn up again."
"Then she isn't fit for heaven," remarked Rosie in an undertone not meant for her sister's ear; "but I don't believe," she added in a louder key, "that there is anything worse the matter than too long a walk for her to get back in good season."