"Why," cried the slender young lady, "that's the very boy!"
Mr. St. Clair rushed out to the barn. Just as he left the door-step who should drive up to the gate and come in but Mrs. Polly Slater. "I have been to the mill," said she, "and I came home by this road, thinking you would like to hear from Debby."
"But where are Obed and Orah?" cried Mrs. Stimpcett, in alarm.
"I have not seen them," said Mrs. Polly Slater.
As she said this, Mr. Furlong stopped at the gate. He said that as he was passing by he thought he would ask how Obed and Orah got on in finding their aunt Debby's.
"Aunt Debby's!" cried Mr. Stimpcett, Mrs. Stimpcett, grandma, and Mrs. Polly Slater—"Aunt Debby's!"
On hearing at what place Mr. Furlong had left her children, Mrs. Stimpcett fainted and fell upon the ground. Then all the people tried to revive her. The slender young lady fanned with her parasol, Mrs. Polly Slater fetched the camphor bottle, Mr. Furlong pumped, Mr. Stimpcett threw dipperfuls of water—though owing to his agitation not much of it touched her face—and grandma called down from the chamber window what should be done.
In the confusion no one noticed the approach of a newcomer. This was the charcoal man, bringing shoes and stockings. "Here are your little girl's shoes and stockings," said he. "She left them in my cart."
"They are not my little girl's," said Mr. Stimpcett, throwing a dipperful of water on the ground.
"She said she was your little girl," said the charcoal man. "But there she is"—pointing to the barn; "you can see for yourself."