“Why, Ed,” she exclaimed, “you don’t think there’s anything wrong, do you?”

“I hope not, Helen, but it’s so unusual.  I can only think of the ocean.  Does she ever go down and sit on the beach alone?”

“No,” said King, positively; “she never does anything like that, alone.  We’re always together.”

“And you hadn’t had any quarrel, or anything?”

“Oh, no, Father; nothing of the sort.  She went to practise right after luncheon, and said she’d be out in an hour.”

“I heard her practising, while Mrs. Corey was here,” said Mrs. Maynard, reminiscently; “but I don’t remember just when she stopped.”

“Well,” said Mr. Maynard, “it’s extraordinary, but I can’t think anything’s wrong with the child.  You know she always has been mischievous, and I think she’s playing some game on us.  We may as well go to dinner.”

But nobody could eat dinner.  The sight of Midget’s empty chair began to seem tragic, and King choked and left the table.

Mrs. Maynard burst into tears, and rose also.  Her husband followed her.

“Don’t worry, Helen,” he urged; “she’s sure to be safe and sound somewhere.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Ed!  Such a thing as this never happened before!  Oh, find her, Ed, do find her!”

King had run over to the Bryants’ and now returned, accompanied by those two very much alarmed people.

“We must do something!” exclaimed Cousin Jack.  “Of course something has happened to the child!  She isn’t one to cut up any such game on purpose.  Have you looked in her room?”

“What for?” asked Mrs. Maynard, helplessly.

“Why, to see if you can discover anything unusual.  I’m going up!”

Mr. Bryant flew upstairs two steps at a time, and they all followed.  But nothing unusual was to be seen.  The pretty room was in order, and no clothing of any sort was lying about.

Mrs. Maynard looked in the cupboard.

“Why, her blue linen is gone!” she said, “and here’s the white pique she had on at luncheon.  And her blue hat is gone; she must have dressed up to go out somewhere to call, and unexpectedly stayed to dinner.”

“Does she ever do that?” demanded Cousin Jack.

“She never has before,” answered Mrs. Maynard, falling weakly back on Marjorie’s bed.  “Why, this pillow is all wet!”

They looked at each other in consternation.  They saw, too, the deep imprint of a head in the dented pillow.  Surely, this meant tragedy of some sort, for if the child had sobbed so hard, she must have been in deep trouble.

“We must find her!” said Cousin Jack, starting for the stairs.

CHAPTER IX

THE SEARCH

It was fortunate that the Bryants were there to take the initiative, for Mr. and Mrs. Maynard seemed incapable of action.  Usually alert and energetic, they were so stunned at the thought of real disaster to Marjorie that they sat around helplessly inactive.