“I say—catch her!” Wally said. “The shock may be too much for Mrs. Archdale.”
Babs was battering at the steps of the high verandah as Norah caught her. She wriggled fiercely in her arms.
“Down!” she said. “Want down!”
“Wait a minute, darling!” Norah begged her. “Wally, you go on—find her. I—I’m going to howl!” She sat down on the step, desperately ashamed of the sobs that shook her; and Jean, in no better case, patted her back very hard.
Perhaps Wally was not very sure of himself either. He cleared his throat as he stood at the door, after knocking, not sorry that no answering step came at once. Presently he came back to the girls.
“There’s no one about,” he said. “I’ve been round to the kitchen. Wonder where they are?”
“Let’s come and look,” Norah answered, doubtfully sure of herself once more. Wally picked up Babs, who wriggled and squeaked on his shoulder, a quicksilver embodiment of excitement that she could not voice in words, since words were all too slow. So they went through the silent house.
There was no sign of any one. In the little blue room the bed was dainty and fresh, with crisp linen, and roses smiled a welcome from the table; and the fire burned low in the kitchen stove, where a kettle bubbled busily. But the house was empty. They looked into Mrs. Archdale’s room, half afraid to find her ill; but she was not there; and Babs went into a fresh ecstasy of excitement at the vision of her own picture, which laughed down at her from the wall.
“Babs!” she cried, and pointed a brown forefinger; “Babs!”
“You blessed kid,” said Wally, in perplexity, “I wish you could tell us where to look for your mother.”