any. Go, little maid, and a blessing on
you."

So she ran and brought him his pipe and his paper, received a kiss for
her pains, and left him on the bench under the apple-tree, idle because
little Molly was idle--no better reason than that--though this was his
busiest time and he a most busy man.

But Mrs. Hungerford could not eat, even though courtesy compelled her to
table and to taste the good fare provided. Her want of appetite banished
Miss Isobel's, and though Dorothy was healthily hungry, as why shouldn't
she be? even she sent away her plate untouched, and was the first of the
trio to put into words the dreadful fear that was in all their hearts:

"I can't, I can't eat! Something has happened to Molly! Something
terrible has come to our Molly!"

That ended waiting. After that the farmer promptly summoned his men, the
mistress her maids, and a thorough search of all the premises began.
Over the old-fashioned well with its long sweep poor Aunt Lu hovered
like a creature distraught.

That well had held a fascination for the novelty-loving Molly, in this
case its age being the to her new thing. She had tried her own strength
in lifting the great beam and lowering the bucket from its pole; and,
perhaps, she had done so now and had fallen over the curb into the
depths below!

In vain did the others tell her how almost impossible this would have
been; she could not be dissuaded, and most earnestly begged the farmer
to have someone search the well.

"No, no, dear madam. Not till we've tried other more likely spots first.
The last time Molly was seen was on Queenie's back. Well, then we have
only to find the sorrel and we'll find the child. Take comfort. That
up-and-a-coming little lass isn't down anybody's well. Not she."

There were many barns and outbuildings on that big farm; some new and
modern, some old and disused. Not one was left unsearched. All work
stopped. Haymakers and ploughmen left their fields to add their willing
feet and keen eyes to the business, and up-garret, down cellar, through
dairies, pantries, unused chambers, everywhere within doors the
troubled housemistress led her own corps of searchers, and always
without result. This had been a foregone conclusion yet she left nothing
undone that might lead to the discovery of the missing girl; while the
longer they sought the deeper the conviction grew in all those anxious
hearts: "Molly is lost."

It was the maid with the headache who furnished