“Ay, but it is true,” persisted her neighbor with assurance.  “For I tell you, it was her ain mother what telt me hersel’.  It seems she has been missing since the day afore yesterday.  She gaed awa’ in the afternoon to see her mither, an’ as she hadna been keepin’ very weel for a day or two an’ no comin’ back that night, Mrs. Rundell jist thought that Jenny had keepit her at home for a holiday.  But she didna turn up yesterday, an’ thinkin’ maybe that the lassie had turned worse, Mrs. Rundell sent owre word jist the noo, to ask how she was keepin’; an’ Jenny was fair thunder-struck when the man came to the door to ask.  Puir body!  Jenny’s awfu’ puttin’ aboot owre the matter.  I hope,” she added, with the first show of sympathy, “that naething has happened to the lassie.  That wad be awfu’!”

“Dear keep us!” exclaimed Nellie.  “I hope nothing has happened to her.”

“God knows!” replied Mrs. Johnstone piously, for want of something else to say.  “It’s awfu’!”

“Do they ken naething at a’ aboot her at Rundells’?” again enquired Mrs. Sinclair.

“No’ a thing they ken, ony mair than you or me.  She left her bits o’ claes, jist as if she meant to come back.  Her new frock was in her drawer jist as she had put it by efter tryin’ it on.  An’ a braw frock it is.  She has nothing except what she was wearin’ at the time she gaed oot.  Her guid boots jist yince on her feet are in her room, a’ cleaned jist as she took them off the last time she had them on.  I canna’ believe it yet.  My! it’s awfu’!  It’ll be a sair, sair heart her faither’ll hae when he hears about it.  He had aye an’ awfu’ wark wi’ Mysie, an’ thought the world o’ her.  If he got Mysie richt he ay seemed to think that a’ else was richt.  I hope nae harm has come to her.  I dinna ken what the world’s comin’ to at a’, I’m sure?  My, it’s awfu’, isn’t it?” and Mrs. Johnstone went out to spread the news, leaving Mrs. Sinclair more mystified and astonished than ever she had been in her life.

Mysie missing!  She could not understand it, and always she tried to crush back the suggestion which was plainly evident in Leezie’s statement that Mysie had “gang wrang.”  It could not be that, for Mysie was never known to have dealings with anyone likely to betray her like that.  It was a hopeless puzzle altogether, and she could not account for it.

It was nearing “lousing time” and Mrs. Sinclair was busy getting the dinner ready, and water boiled to wash the men coming in from the pit, and she wondered how Robert would take the news.

She knew, having guessed, as most mothers do guess, that Mysie held a sacred corner in Robert’s heart; though noticing the silence during the last two weeks, and his renewed attention to books and study, she wondered if anything had come between Mysie and himself.  Had he at last spoken to her and been discouraged?  She could hardly harbor that thought, for she felt also that Mysie’s heart enshrined but one man, and that was Robert.  Yet what could be the meaning of all this mystery?