“Oh, Mither,” she wailed through her sobs, “oor Jessie’s nae to be foond!  She’s nae at hame.  I dinna ken wha she’s gane!”

With her mother’s arms around her, the child was able to give a more coherent account of the circumstances which had led to this abrupt cessation of the dance; for Archie’s melody had trailed off into an unmusical drone and speedily ceased, and the dancers had spontaneously crowded round the child and her mother.

Peggy had been left in charge at home, for Bell was allowed to take part in the “ball.”  Jessie, the youngest but one of the family, was a little maid of four years.  She had accompanied Peggy and her brothers, with a crowd of other small folk, when the children went to the moss with provisions for the workers.  All had gone and returned in a body, and no one noticed that Jessie was not with them.  It was only when Peggy began to assemble her own little charges, to conduct them to their own house, that she missed the wee lassie.  Peggy knew that her father and mother, together with all her elders in the family, had already started for the barn—­some to help in the preparations, others to chat with those who were assembling outside.  It was growing dark, for the children had delayed their homeward journey (as they often will when a number are together) to play and sport.

There was no one to advise or help the child.  Sending on three-year-old Elsie and the other little ones in charge of Johnnie, she ran back, half distracted, toward the hill they had left earlier in the afternoon.  Shouting out for Jessie by name, she wandered hither and thither—­terrified, self-accusing, disconsolate.  But it was all to no purpose.  Darkness fell, and fearful and contrite, Peggy had no resource but to seek her mother.

There was no more merriment that night.  A search party was at once organized by the younger men, who started with lanterns and some of their collies to the peat-moss.  All that night the anxious mother kept weary vigil, while the men-folk searched the hill.  Day broke, and no trace had been found of the lost child.  Weary and sad, the men returned for some needful rest and others took their places.  But though they traversed the moors all day, and searched crevices and water-courses with diligence, they met with no better success.  Sometimes a sound would break through the stillness which would stir their hearts with renewed hope.  The cry of a child!  Weak and faint, indeed, but telling of the continuance of life!  But again and again, after scaling heights or creeping down comes, they were doomed to disappointment.  It was but the bleat of a strayed lamb!  That night a larger party set out with lanterns and torches, and once more ranged the hills shouting for the child; but once again morning dawned upon disappointed hopes.

Then every one who could be of any possible use was pressed into the service.  The people flocked out of their homes from all that district, and hand in hand they started in a long line stretching across a wide tract of country, and moving slowly on until every inch of ground in their way had been thoroughly explored.