“Paul’s late,” he said presently.

“I’m afraid she isn’t coming.”

“It’s past twelve,” Tom glanced at the sun.  “Maybe we’d better walk on a bit.”

But they had walked a considerable bit, all the way to the parsonage, in fact, before they saw anything of Pauline.  There, she met them at the gate.  “Have you seen any trace of Patience—­and Bedelia?” she asked eagerly.

“Patience and Bedelia?” Hilary repeated wonderingly.

“They’re both missing, and it’s pretty safe guessing they’re together.”

“But Patience would never dare—­”

“Wouldn’t she!” Pauline exclaimed.  “Jim brought Bedelia ’round about eleven and when I came out a few moments later, she was gone and so was Patience.  Jim’s out looking for them.  We traced them as far as the Lake road.”

“I’ll go hunt, too,” Tom offered.  “Don’t you worry, Paul; she’ll turn up all right—­couldn’t down the Imp, if you tried.”

“But she’s never driven Bedelia alone; and Bedelia’s not Fanny.”

However, half an hour later, Patience drove calmly into the yard, Towser on the seat beside her, and if there was something very like anxiety in her glance, there was distinct triumph in the way she carried her small, bare head.

“We’ve had a beautiful drive!” she announced, smiling pleasantly from her high seat, at the worried, indignant group on the porch.  “I tell you, there isn’t any need to ‘hi-yi’ this horse!”

“My sakes!” Miranda declared.  “Did you ever hear the beat of that!”

“Get down, Patience!” Mrs. Shaw said, and Patience climbed obediently down.  She bore the prompt banishment to her own room which followed, with seeming indifference.  Certainly, it was not unexpected; but when Hilary brought her dinner up to her presently, she found her sitting on the floor, her head on the bed.  It was only a few days now to Shirley’s turn and it was going to be such a nice turn.  Patience felt that for once Patience Shaw had certainly acted most unwisely.

“Patty, how could you!” Hilary put the tray on the table and sitting down on the bed, took the tumbled head on her knee.  “We’ve been so worried!  You see, Bedelia isn’t like Fanny!”

“That’s why I wanted to get a chance to drive her by myself for once!  She went beautifully! out on the Lake road I just let her loose!” For the moment, pride in her recent performance routed all contrition from Patience’s voice—­“I tell you, folks I passed just stared!”

“Patience, how—­”

“I wasn’t scared the least bit; and, of course, Bedelia knew it.  Uncle Jerry says they always know when you’re scared, and if Mr. Allen is the most up in history of any man in Vermont, Uncle Jerry is the most in horses.”

Hilary felt that the conversation was hardly proceeding upon the lines her mother would have approved of, especially under present circumstances.  “That has nothing to do with it, you know, Patience,” she said, striving to be properly severe.