In great excitement the sisters ran to meet him, and imagine their horror when, with a voice all broken with sobs, he cried: "Oh! oh! it was only a—a peddler's wagon, and I ran nearly a mile to catch it, and—and now I don't know where to look, because Popsey's run off with the baby!"
Terrified beyond description at the thought of the danger that threatened their aunt's pet, who had been so reluctantly committed to their charge, the girls commanded Jack to tell them instantly just how it had all happened, which he did with teeth-chattering from fright, and repeated assertions that he had believed Popsey was asleep.
"But didn't I tell you not to stir?—and oh, Helen, it's partly my fault too, for if I hadn't been so foolish as to leave Amy, she—" Here May broke down completely, and leaving her and Jack in tears together, Helen flew back to the house, and soon returned with Mrs. Hillwin, Fanny, the maid, and the cook. Then she pointed out the three roads it was possible the donkey had taken, and burst out crying herself.
"An' shure, miss, don't give way so," said the cook, cheeringly, "but jist take yer stand at the cross-roads beyant, an' ask ivery person that comes along—an' precious few do it be in this wild region, bad luck to it!—ef they're afther seein' a donkey runnin' off wid a baby."
This sensible suggestion was at once acted upon, and while the rest all hurried off in the direction of a turnip-field, which the maid declared Popsey must have sniffed, Helen stood at the junction of the three roads until a pleasant-faced old gentleman in a buggy approached her.
"Oh, sir," she cried, rushing up dangerously close to the wheels, "did you meet a runaway donkey-cart?"
"No, not I," was the answer; and the gentleman repressed a smile, but suddenly grew quite grave as he drew rein and asked if the donkey's name was Popsey.
"Oh, yes, yes," exclaimed Helen. "And have you seen him?"
"No, but I am going to see his owner now, and if you will get in, I will take you along with me. I am the family doctor, and am quite well acquainted with Popsey."
Hardly knowing what she did, but feeling that any sort of motion or action was better than waiting in suspense, Helen accepted the invitation, and began at once to pour forth her tale of grief to the kindly old physician, upon hearing which he whipped up his horse, saying that he was sure no harm had come to Amy.