“I’m sure I don’t know. Tom is old enough and smart enough to take care of himself.”
“It’s very strange.”
“So it is. I haven’t any idea what has become of him.”
“Did you look around Squire Pemberton’s house, where he was seen last?”
“I looked about on both sides of the road, going and coming from the Harbor. I whistled all the way, and if he had been any where round, he would have whistled back, as he always does.”
“What do you suppose has become of him?” demanded the poor mother, worried beyond expression at the mysterious disappearance of her son.
“I can’t tell, mother.”
“Don’t you think we had better call up the neighbors, and have something done about it?”
“I don’t know,” replied John, hardly less anxious than his mother.
“I don’t suppose they would be able to find him if we did,” added Mrs. Somers, wiping away the tears from her face.