The two telephones were kept busy, and Mr. Garner, with
several other men on horseback, scoured the village. Not a
soul had seen either child.
At three o'clock Miss Minerva, worn with anxiety and on the
verge of a collapse, dropped into a chair on her veranda,
her faithful Major by her side. He had come to offer help
and sympathy as soon as he heard of her distress, and,
finding her in such a softened, dependent, and receptive
mood, the Major had remained to try to cheer her up.
Mr. and Mrs. Garner were also on the porch, discussing what
further steps they could take.
"It is all the fault of that William of yours," snapped one
little boy's mother to the other little boy's aunt: "Jimmy is
the best child in the world when he is by himself, but he is
easily led into mischief."
Miss Minerva's face blazed with indignation.
"William's fault indeed!" she answered back. "There never
was a sweeter child than William;" for the lonely woman knew
the truth at last. At the thought that her little nephew
might be hurt, a long forgotten tenderness stirred her bosom
and she realized for the first time how the child had grown
into her life.
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