"Hannah Maria is lost, and Mehitable knows what has become of her, and she won't tell," explained Aunt Susy.
"Massy sakes!" Grandmother Lamb went up to the bed. "Tell grandmother," she whispered, "an' she'll give you a pep'mint."
But Mehitable shook her head and sobbed.
They all pleaded and argued and commanded, but they got no reply but that shake of the head and sobs.
"The child will be sick if she keeps on this way," said Grandmother Lamb.
"She deserves to be sick!" said Hannah Maria's mother, in a desperate voice; and Mehitable's mother forgave her.
"We may as well go down," said Mr. Green, with a groan. "I can't waste any more time here; I've got to do something."
"Oh, here 'tis night coming on, and my poor child lost!" wailed Hannah Maria's mother.
Mehitable sobbed so that it was pitiful in spite of her obstinacy.
"If that child don't have somethin' to take, she'll be sick," said her grandmother. "I dunno as there's any need of her bein' sick if Hannah Maria is lost." And she forthwith went stiffly down-stairs. The rest followed—all except Mrs. Lamb. She lingered to plead longer with Mehitable.