"Which way?"
"Off among the trees," said Clam.
"Which way?" said Mr. Landholm.
"His back was to the house, and he was goin' off towards the river some place — I guess he didn't want no one to foller him."
"There aint no wet nor cold to hurt him," said Karen.
There was not; but they missed him.
And the house had been quiet, very quiet, for long after supper-time, when softly and cautiously one of the missing ones opened the door of the east-room and half came in. Only Karen sat there at the foot of the bed. Winnie came in and came up to her.
"He's not here, darlin'," said the old woman, — "and ye needn't ha' started from him. — O cold face, and white face! — what ha' you done with yourself, Winnie, to run away from him so? Ye needn't ha' feared him. Poor lamb! — poor white lamb! —"
The girl sat down on the floor and laid her face on Karen's lap, where the still tears ran very fast.
"Poor white lamb!" said the old woman, tenderly laying her wrinkled hand on Winnie's fair hair, — "Ye haven't eat a crumb — Karen'll fetch you a bit? — ye'll faint by the way —"