All had gone and returned in a body,
and no one noticed that Jessie was not with them. It was only when
Peggy began to assemble her own little charges, to conduct them to
their own house, that she missed the wee lassie. Peggy knew that her
father and mother, together with all her elders in the family, had
already started for the barn--some to help in the preparations, others
to chat with those who were assembling outside. It was growing dark,
for the children had delayed their homeward journey (as they often will
when a number are together) to play and sport.
There was no one to advise or help the child. Sending on
three-year-old Elsie and the other little ones in charge of Johnnie,
she ran back, half distracted, toward the hill they had left earlier in
the afternoon. Shouting out for Jessie by name, she wandered hither
and thither--terrified, self-accusing, disconsolate. But it was all to
no purpose. Darkness fell, and fearful and contrite, Peggy had no
resource but to seek her mother.
There was no more merriment that night. A search party was at once
organized by the younger men, who started with lanterns and some of
their collies to the peat-moss. All that night the anxious mother kept
weary vigil, while the men-folk searched the hill. Day broke, and no
trace had been found of the lost child. Weary and sad, the men
returned for some needful rest and others took their places.
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