“Even if I did help to turn his hair grey?”

He shook his head.

“You used to rush headlong into things, Ted; but you never went very far astray, and now—­”

Theodora seized his arm.

“Hush!” she said, pointing to the shady spot under the trees where Allyn lay on the grass with Cicely by his side.  The girl was bareheaded, and one shaft of sunlight, slanting down between the oak leaves above her, struck across her brown hair and across her hand as it lay on Allyn’s outstretched palm.

“Come, papa, let’s leave them there,” she added.  “Cicely is a better doctor for Allyn than either you or I.”

It was the third day after her talk with Theodora, and Cicely had not so much as caught a glimpse of Allyn, though she had dropped in at The Savins repeatedly, on the chance of finding him at home.  Whether the boy had turned his back upon the world, or was merely trying to keep out of her way, she was at a loss to determine.  However, she saw no use in taking the whole family into her confidence, and she apparently gave her entire attention to Mrs. McAlister and Phebe, while in reality her grey eyes were keeping a sharp lookout for the missing boy.

At last she made up her mind that indirect methods were useless.  Siege failing, she determined to carry the place by assault.

“Where is Allyn?” she demanded, as she came up the steps of The Savins with Melchisedek at her heels.

“I don’t know.  Get away!  Shoo!  Cicely, do call your horrid dog away.”  And Phebe brandished a scalpel threateningly.

“Here, Melchisedek, come here!”

But Melchisedek, his paws planted on the hem of Phebe’s skirt, was barking madly and making little lunges at something in her lap.

“Get out!  Ugh!  Do go away!  Cicely, call him!”

Cicely stooped and caught up the wriggling little creature who protested loudly, as she tucked him under her arm.

“Might I inquire what that choice morsel is, Phebe?” she asked disdainfully.

“It’s a chicken’s gizzard,” Phebe answered shortly.

“Oh, and you were having a private lunch out here.  Beg pardon for disturbing you.”  Cicely’s eyes were dancing, and the dimples in her cheeks were at their deepest; but Phebe never looked up.  “Poor little Melchisedek!” the girl went on.  “Wouldn’t his old Aunt Babe give him one little bittie piece?  Well, it was too bad.  Do you lunch out here from choice, Babe; or were you sent away from the table?”

“Don’t be silly, Cicely.  Can’t you see I am studying it?”

“What for?”

“To see how it’s made.”

“Oh, then it’s science, not hunger.  It’s all right, Melchisedek; she is learning things, not eating them.  But what was it you said about Allyn?”

“Nothing.”

“Please do say something, then.  I want him.”

“Ask mother,” Phebe said absently.  “Oh-h, there now!”