"Guess we can wait till night to hear 'bout it."
Mrs. Dow looked sorrowful and shook her head. "Betsey had an aunt on
her mother's side that went and drownded of herself; she was a
pritty-appearing woman as ever you see."
"Perhaps she's gone to spend the day with Decker's folks," suggested
Peggy Bond. "She always takes an extra early start; she was speakin'
lately o' going up their way;" but Mrs. Dow shook her head with a most
melancholy look. "I'm impressed that something's befell her," she
insisted. "I heard her a-groanin' in her sleep. I was wakeful the
forepart o' the night,--'tis very unusual with me, too."
"'Twa'n't like Betsey not to leave us any word," said the other old
friend, with more resentment than melancholy. They sat together almost
in silence that morning in the shed chamber. Mrs. Dow was sorting and
cutting rags, and Peggy braided them into long ropes, to be made into
mats at a later date. If they had only known where Betsey Lane had
gone, they might have talked about it until dinner-time at noon; but
failing this new subject, they could take no interest in any of their
old ones. Out in the field the corn was well up, and the men were
hoeing. It was a hot morning in the shed chamber, and the woolen rags
were dusty and hot to handle.
V.
Byfleet people knew each other well, and when this mysteriously absent
person did not return to the town-farm at the end of a week, public
interest became much excited; and presently it was ascertained that
Betsey Lane was neither making a visit to her friends the Deckers on
Birch Hill, nor to any nearer acquaintances; in fact, she had
disappeared altogether from her wonted haunts.
Pages:
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471