ed his brain for a less harassing
explanation of the fact that Aunt Abigail had disappeared some time
during the forenoon, and at five o'clock was still missing. Peggy, her
lips very white, attempted to reassure herself and the others, by
attacking the theory he had suggested.

"But, Jerry, what would gypsies want with an old lady like Aunt Abigail?
I thought they only stole babies."

"Yes, and they come back after a while and claim their fathers'
estates," chimed in Amy hysterically.

Jerry would have liked to be consoling, but did not see his way clear to
that end. He accordingly observed that real gypsies would steal anything
they could lay their hands on. And when he had finished this expression
of his inmost convictions, Amy burst into tears.

"Oh, why are we wasting time?" she cried. "We ought to get Mr. Cole and
Joe and all the men around to drive after those people and see who was
under that blanket. Oh, dear. Oh, dear!"

Dorothy was pulling Peggy's skirt. "Aunt Peggy! Aunt Peggy, listen!"

"Oh, hush, Dorothy. I can't attend to you."

"But listen, Aunt Peggy--"

"Dorothy, you're a naughty girl. I can't listen."

Dorothy too burst into sobs. "I just wanted to tell you," she wailed,
"that Aunt Abigail was a-sitting on the porch."

Peggy spun about. The astonishing news was true. On the porch sat Aunt
Abigail, swaying slightly in one of the willow rockers, with her
meditative gaze fixed on the western sky. After the first inevitable
half minutes of stupefaction, there was a wild rush for the house.

"It seems to me I never saw the sky prettier," was Aunt Abigail's
astonishing beginning. But no one was in the mood to join her in
discussing the beauties of nature. "Where have you been?" was the cry
echoed from lip to lip.

Aunt Abigail smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt, and for the first time
since undertaking the chaperonage of the Terrace girls, she looked a
trifle discomfited.

"I found such an interesting story in the garret," she said, "a
continued story it was, and it ran through an entire year, fifty-two
numbers. I had a little difficulty in finding every instalment, but I
succeeded at last. You girls will enjoy reading it. I am afraid--" Aunt
Abigail glanced uneasily at the rosy west, and left the sentence
unfinished. "I hope," she said instead, "that you didn't wait dinner for
me."

"But the door was locked," said Peggy, finding it almost impossible to
believe that their alarm had been ground