"I'm glad o' that; it's all well, then," she said, quite unsuspiciously. "You're upset, Meg. It's been a shock to you."
"I'm tired. I'll get a bit of supper and rest a bit," Mrs. McDougall returned. Her eyes were red and ringed, and had a look in them worse than the look of tears.
The old woman went off to bed, and Mrs. McDougall sat down by the fire, though not to eat. All night she sat listening, and many a time she got up and walked out to the gate, peering through the darkness, in the fancy that she had caught some sound.
Still the rain poured down, the night dragged on, and the children were, as we know, far enough away.
CHAPTER XIX.—MRS. FERGUSON IS BAFFLED.
W
hen Robbie awoke next morning at his usual early hour, and saw no sign of his mother in the room, he thought he must have overslept himself, so he jumped up quickly, and dressed.
He ran downstairs into the kitchen, and found Mrs. McDougall seated before the empty grate.
She turned her head quickly as Robbie entered. In a moment the child saw that something dreadful was the matter. Never in all his life had he seen his mother look like that.
The child glanced at her wonderingly, then came close to her, with the quick sympathy which is so sweet.
"Mother," he said, "is it Elsie and Duncan? Haven't you found them yet?"