The latter stood at the cross roads, and the cottage to the left was where the teacher, Mr. Layton, an old bachelor, lived with his two maiden sisters.

Mr. Layton, although strict to severity in the school-room, was a kind-hearted man and was fond of the Ribsam children, for they were bright, cheerful, and obedient, and never gave him any trouble, as did some of his other pupils.  He listened to Nick’s story, and his sympathy was aroused at once.

“I am very sorry,” said he, “that your good father and mother, not to mention yourself, should be so sorely troubled; but I hope this is not serious.  Nellie came to me about three o’clock and asked whether I would let her go home.”

“Was she sick?” asked the distressed brother.

“Not at all; but she said you had gone to Dunbarton in your carriage and she wanted to meet you coming back.  She knew her lessons perfectly, and Nellie is such a good girl that I felt that I could not refuse so simple a request.  So I told her she could go.  I saw her start homeward with her lunch-basket in one hand and her two school-books in the other.  She stepped off so briskly and was in such cheerful spirits that I stood at the window and watched her until she passed around the bend in the road.”

Nick felt his heart sink within him, for the words of the teacher had let in a great deal of alarming truth upon him.

Nellie had reached the forks two hours ahead of him, and then, not wishing to sit down and wait, she had started up the road in the direction of Dunbarton to meet him.  She must have entered the eight mile stretch of woods from the south about the same time Nick himself drove into it on his return from Dunbarton.

The two should have met near Shark Creek, but neither had seen the other.  Nick, as a matter of course, had kept to the road, but what had become of Nellie?

This was the question the lad put to himself, and which caused him to feel so faint that he sank down in a chair unable to speak for a minute or two.  Then, when he tried to do so, he had to stop, and was kept busy swallowing the lump that would rise in his throat, until finally the tears suddenly appeared, and, putting his hands to his eyes, he gave way to his grief.

“There, there,” said Mr. Layton soothingly, “don’t cry, Nick, for it will do no good.  Nellie has strayed off in the woods to gather flowers or perhaps wild grapes and has missed her way.”

“She—­is—­lost—­poor—­Nellie!” said the lad as best he could between his sobs; “we’ll never see her again.”

“Oh, it isn’t as bad as that!  I suppose she has grown weary, and, sitting down to rest, has fallen asleep.”

If the good teacher meant this to soothe the lad, it had the contrary effect, for the picture of his little sister wandering alone in the woods was one of the most dreadful that could be imagined, and it took all the manhood of his nature to keep from breaking down again.