She had heard our voices and was making haste to reach us. As she
approached, we saw that she looked anxious.
"Has grandpa been over here to-day?" her first words were. "He's gone.
He went out right after breakfast this morning, and he hasn't come back.
"After he went out, Tom saw him down by the line wall," she continued
hurriedly. "We thought perhaps he had gone to the Corners by the
meadow-brook path. But he didn't come to dinner. We are beginning to
wonder where he is. Tom's just gone to the Corners to see if he is
there."
"Why, no," we said. "He hasn't been here to-day."
The two back windows at the rear of the kitchen were down, and Ellen,
who was washing dishes there, overheard what Catherine had said, and
spoke to grandmother Ruth, who called the old Squire.
"That's a little strange," he said when Catherine had repeated her
tidings to him. "But I rather think it is nothing serious. He may have
gone on from the Corners to the village. I shouldn't worry."
Grandpa Jonathan Edwards--distantly related to the stern New England
divine of that name--was a sturdy, strong old man sixty-seven years of
age, two years older than our old Squire, and a friend and neighbor of
his from boyhood.
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