"Every mite."
"Well, she'll be all right in the morning, I guess. There isn't anything better than a bowl of good, hot, thoroughwort tea."
The twilight was deepening. The Lamb family were all in the sitting-room. They had not lighted the lamp, the summer dusk was so pleasant. The windows were open. All at once a dark shadow appeared at one of them. The women started—all but Grandmother Lamb. She was asleep in her chair.
"Who's there?" Aunt Susy asked, in a grave tone.
"Have you seen anything of Hannah Maria?" said a hoarse voice. Then they knew it was Mr. Green.
Mrs. Lamb and the aunts pressed close to the window.
"No, we haven't," replied Mrs. Lamb. "Why, what's the matter?"
"We can't find her anywheres. Mother went over to Lawrence this afternoon, and I was down in the east field hayin'. Mother, she got home first, and Hannah Maria wasn't anywhere about the house, an' she'd kind of an idea she'd gone over to the Bennets'; she'd been talkin' about goin' there to get a tidy-pattern of the Bennet girl, so she waited till I got home. I jest put the horse in again, an' drove over there, but she's not been there. I don't know where she is. Mother's most crazy."
"Where is she?" they cried, all altogether.
"Sittin' out in the road, in the buggy."