rter of a mile away, and see if
they knew anything of Hannah Maria, and get Mr. Pitkin to aid in the
search.

"I wouldn't go over to Timothy's to-night, if I were you," said Mrs.
Green. "Jenny's dreadful nervous, and it would use her all up; she
thought so much of Hannah Maria."

Mrs. Green's voice broke with a sob.

"No, I'm not going there," returned Mr. Green. "It isn't any use. It
isn't likely they know anything about her. It's a good five mile off."

Mr. Green got into his buggy and drove away. Mrs. Green went home, and
Aunt Susy and the other aunt with her. Nobody slept in the Lamb or the
Green house that night, except Grandmother Lamb. She dozed in her chair,
although they could not induce her to go to bed. But first she started
the kitchen fire, and made another bowl of thoroughwort tea for
Mehitable.

"She'll be sick jest as sure as the world, if she doesn't drink it,"
said she. And Mehitable lifted her swollen, teary face from the pillow
and drank it. "She don't know any more where that Green girl has gone to
than I do," said Grandmother Lamb, when she went down with the bowl.
"There isn't any use in pesterin' the child so."

Mrs. Lamb watched for Mr. Green to return from Mr. Pitkin's, and ran out
to the road. He had with him Mr. Pitkin's hired man and eldest boy.

"Pitkin's harnessed up and gone the other way, over to the village, and
we're goin' to look round the place thorough, an'--look in the well," he
said, in a husky voice.

"If she would only tell," groaned Mrs. Lamb. "I've done all I can. I
can't _make_ her speak."

Mr. Green groaned in response, and drove on. Mrs. Lamb went in, and
stood at her sitting-room window and watched the lights over at the
Green house. They flitted from one room to another all night. At dawn
Aunt Susy ran over with her shawl over her head. She was wan and
hollow-eyed.

"They haven't found a sign of her," said she. "They've looked
everywhere. The Pitkin boy's been down the well. Mr. Pitkin has just
come over from the village, and a lot of men are going out to hunt for
her as soon as it's light. If Mehitable only would tell!"

"I can't make her," said Mrs. Lamb, despairingly.

"I know what I think you'd ought to do," said Aunt Susy, in a desperate
voice.

"What?"

"_Whip her._"

"Oh, Susy, I can't! I never whipped her in my life."

"Well, I don't care. I should." Aunt Susy had the tragic and resolute
expression of an inquisitor. She might have been propos