coming here for the night,” said Jack, after introductions had been made; “but I think it is entirely too much. There are so many of us—”
“There’s always a welcome here for any friends of old Simon’s,” was Mrs. Riboux’s quiet reply; “and we have plenty of room. We were sorry to hear of his bad luck; but then, it turned out well for you,” looking at the little family curiously.
“Yes, the opportunity to take the route came just as we were looking for something for the summer,” said Desiré, smiling shyly at their hostess.
“Oh, then you’re not goin’ to keep it regular?”
“That can not be decided,” contributed Jack, “until we see how things go.”
As they gathered around the table for supper, the boy who had told them about the Pie Social slid into one of the chairs and grinned at Desiré.
“Didn’t think you’d see me again so soon, did you?”
“That’s Ormand, Orrie for short,” explained Prudence, who sat beside Jack right across the table from them.
“I guessed who you people were as soon as I laid eyes on Dapple and Dolly; and I knew you’d turn up here finally.”
The conversation of the elders turned to crops, and continued throughout the meal, while the younger people talked of the coming dance.
“Now,” said Mrs. Riboux to Desiré, as they left the table, “why don’t you put the little fellow to bed and go to the dance with my boy and girl? I’ll watch out for him,” as Desiré hesitated and looked at Jack. “All ages go to these socials, so your sister could go along too,” she added, as the Wistmores started up the long flight of stairs to their rooms.
“I’ll put René to bed while you dress up a bit,” offered Jack, taking the little boy by the hand, and preparing to leave Desiré.
She detained him, however, and asked in a low tone, “What about—?” motioning toward the door of her room, which Priscilla had entered ahead of her.
“Trot on into that room across the hall, Renny,” directed Jack, starting him in the right direction; “and see how nearly ready for bed you can get before I come.”
“Although she is far too young for dances,” he continued, “since it is the custom here for girls of her age to attend them, I should have allowed her to go; but in the light of this afternoon’s escapade, I think she should be deprived of the pleasure. Don’t you?”
“Y—e—s; I suppose so; but I’m afraid she’ll make a fuss, for she expects to go. And I do hate to disappoint her.”
Without replying, Jack stepped into the room where his younger sister was standing before an old-fashioned mirror combing her hair.
“Priscilla,” he began quietly, “you weren’t counting on going to the dance; were you?”
“Yes, I am,” she retorted quickly, turning to face him. “You heard Mrs. Riboux say that girls of my age go.”
“That is not the point at all. What about this afternoon’s disobedience?”
“It wasn’t my fault that I met that awful animal,” she muttered, half under her breath.
“You are being purposely stupid, Priscilla. You know very well that you were deliberately disobedient in not following the wagon as I told you to. If you can’t obey, we shall all have a miserable summer. To impress that fact on your mind, you must stay right here in your room until we come back; that is, unless René wants something.”
Jack crossed the hall to his own room, and Desiré looked pityingly on her sister, who had thrown herself into a chair beside the window and was giving way to tears. There was no use trying to reason with Priscilla when the child was in one of these moods; so she went about her own preparations for the evening, in silence; but considerable of her own pleasure was taken out of the prospect.
Before leaving, she stooped over the big chair in which the little girl crouched, put her arms around her, and kissed her affectionately without speaking. Priscilla also said nothing, but she returned the kiss; and Desiré, recognizing the act as the beginning of a return to normal conditions, felt happier about leaving her.
Ormand and Prudence Riboux were evidently very popular among the young folks of the country; and they introduced their guests to so many boys and girls that the Wistmores were never at a loss for partners.
“Wasn’t it fun!” cried Desiré joyously, as she said goodnight to Jack in the dim upper hall, lighted only by their two candles. “Didn’t you have a good time?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And just think, we’ve made some new friends already. I like the Riboux family.”
“So do I; they’re fine people,” agreed Jack absentmindedly. He was thinking about tomorrow’s trip into the Clare District. That was going to be the hardest part of the route, going through their old home and its neighboring towns.
“Jack!” cried Desiré, as she entered her room. “Prissy’s gone!”
CHAPTER VII
A FRIGHT
“Gone!” echoed Jack, staring blankly around the room. “Where could she possibly go?”
“I don’t know; but you see she isn’t here.”
There were few places to look. Jack peered under the big bed, while Desiré looked in the clothes press and a deep chest.
“What shall we do?” she whispered, twisting her hands together and trying to force back the tears. “Is René in your room?” as a sudden thought occurred to her.
With two steps, Jack crossed the hall and stuck his head into the room opposite.
“Yes; he’s in bed.”
Mrs. Riboux, sensing that something was wrong, came out of her room, followed by her husband. Their exclamations brought Prudence and Ormand to join the group. A few minutes of excited consultation resulted in Mr. Riboux going out to notify the authorities that a child was missing.
While the women searched the house from top to bottom, Jack and Ormand, aided by the feeble rays of a lantern, looked about the barns and yard. A group of men and boys from the town were soon scouring the nearby woods, and Desiré, who had returned to her room after the fruitless trip through the various rooms, could see the moving lights and hear occasional shouts.
The forced inaction maddened her. If there were only something she could do besides wait. What danger might not Priscilla be in while she stood helpless here?
After a long time Mr. Riboux, followed by Jack and Ormand, crossed the yard, and she ran downstairs hoping for news. Her brother merely shook his head gravely when they met in the kitchen where Mrs. Riboux was making coffee and setting out a lunch for the men who were still in the woods. One by one they straggled in, reporting no luck at all.
Desiré’s own acute distress was increased every time she looked at Jack’s stern, set face. Well she knew by the deep lines between his eyes that he was blaming
