She hunted up Curly.

“Old Scratch!” ejaculated the boy.  “I haven’t seen Amy to-day.  Sure I haven’t!  No, Ma’am!”

“Not at all?” asked Ruth.  “And don’t you know where to look for her?”

“Oh, she’ll take care of herself,” said the boy, carelessly.  “She isn’t as soft as most girls.”

“But Mrs. Tellingham will be awfully angry with me,” Ruth cried.  “I was supposed to look out for her when she came over here.”

“Shucks!” exclaimed Curly.  “Amy didn’t want to be looked out for.”

“That doesn’t absolve me from my duty,” sighed Ruth.  “Haven’t you the least idea where she’s gone?”

“No, Ruth, I haven’t,” the boy declared earnestly.  “If I had I’d tell you.”

“I believe you, Curly.”

“She and I haven’t been so friendly,” admitted the boy, in some embarrassment, “since you went fishing with me that time.”

“Goodness me! she’s not jealous?” cried Ruth.

“I don’t know what you call it,” said Curly, hanging his head.  “It’s some foolish girl stuff.  Boys don’t act that way.  I told her I’d take her fishing, too—­if she’d get up early enough.”  Here Curly began to laugh.  “You can bet, Ruth, that wherever she is, she got there before dark and won’t come back until daylight.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ruth, sharply.

“I know she’s afraid as she can be of the dark.  She’s a regular baby about that.  Of course, she won’t own up to it.”

“Why!  I never knew it,” Ruth exclaimed.

“She wouldn’t go fishing because I start so early—­while it’s still dark.  Catch her out of the house before sun-up!”

“Oh, Curly!  I blame myself,” gasped Ruth.  “I never knew that about her.  Are you sure?”

“’Course I am.  She’s scared of the dark.  I can make her mad any time by just hinting at it.  So that proves it, don’t it?” responded this young philosopher.

“Maybe she has gone somewhere and is afraid to come back till morning,” repeated Ruth.

“She’s been after me to take her up to that dam where we caught the fish, in the afternoon; but I told her we couldn’t get home before pitch dark.  I ought to have taken her along, I guess, and said nothing,” Curly added reflectively.

“Last night she was talking about it.  She said I should take her because I took you there.”

“You don’t suppose she’s gone clear over there by herself, do you?” Ruth cried, in alarm.

“I don’t believe she knows how to start, even,” Curly said easily.  “And I told her last night she’d better not go anywhere till she got rid of that sore throat.”

“Sore throat!” repeated Ruth, with added worriment.  “I never knew her throat was sore.”

“She told me, she did,” Curly said.  “It was pretty bad, I guess, too.  I guess maybe she was afraid to say anything about it.  I don’t like to tell Gran when there’s anything the matter with me.  She mixes up such nasty messes for me to take!”