“You’ll probably find her,” Mrs. Blossom tried thus to encourage him.  “It isn’t easy for a woman with two children to drop out of sight, you know.  Some one will be able to give you a clue.”

Mr. Harley shook his head despondently.

“It’s been two years, your husband tells me,” he replied.  “And I’ve been missing for four.  Like as not she doesn’t want to see me.  I was out o’ my mind for three years, Ma’am, and when I came to I was in a hospital on the California coast.  It took me a year to work my way East.  I kept writing and writing and wondering why Lou didn’t send me a line.  She was never one to bear a grudge.”

“But what will you do?” asked Mrs. Blossom, her kind eyes filling with tears as she pictured the ruined little shack on the island.  “Don’t go back there and try to live, Mr. Harley—­it will only make you ill again.  You know Mrs. Harley isn’t there, and I can not bear to think of you there alone.”

“I’ll stay to-night in Pomona,” said Mr. Harley slowly.  “Then I’ll go on to Sunset Lake and put up a while with Chris Smith; he owns a boathouse and I can earn my keep taking folks about the lake.  I’ll be on the spot then if she should come back or if any one comes with news of her.  And if your sister knows where she went—­”

“We’ll ask her to-night and tell you as soon as we reach Sunset Lake,” promised Mother Blossom heartily.

The rest of the drive was accomplished almost in silence, Mr. Harley busy with his own brooding thoughts and the Blossoms anxious not to annoy him.  When they reached the town of Pomona, they left him at the post-office, where he said Joe Gates was always to be found.  Another five miles brought the Blossoms to Brookside Farm.

“There’s Foots!” shouted Twaddles, standing up on the seat and waving to Aunt Polly, who came flying down the drive.

“And Linda!” cried Meg.

“And Jud!  And Peter Apgar!” shrieked Bobby.

“My darling lambs!” babbled Aunt Polly, almost beside herself with pleasure.  “I never was so glad to see any one in all my life!  Margaret, you look positively beautiful!  Ralph, Jud will show you where to drive the car in.  Oh, isn’t this the nicest thing that ever happened to us, Linda?”

Linda smiled happily and nodded.  She had grown taller since the four little Blossoms had seen her and she wore her hair pinned up in a pretty knot on top of her head.

Still laughing and talking, Aunt Polly marshaled her guests into the house.  The twins were so sleepy from the long ride that they could hardly keep their eyes open, but they insisted on coming to the supper table.  Linda and Aunt Polly had spent hours over that supper, and Father Blossom declared that he would drive fifty miles any day to get a slice of Linda’s homemade bread.

“Mother,” whispered Meg, pulling her mother’s sleeve half-way through the meal, “Dot’s crying!”

Sure enough, Dot was crying, big, slow, salty tears running down her pink cheeks and dropping off into her bowl of rich milk and bread.