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Page 20
Father Blossom stopped the car on the other side of the road from
a pretty cottage where a sign on the gate offered "Guaranteed,
Analyzed Spring Water for Sale," and he and Mr. Harley disappeared
with the bottles through the odd, rustic gate.
"Now he'll tell the poor man," sighed Mother Blossom. "Whatever
they do or say when they come back, children, I don't want you to
say a word unless you're spoken to. Can you remember?"
"Yes'm," promised the four little Blossoms, four little hearts
warm with sympathy for poor Mr. Harley.
"Where do you suppose he was all the time he wasn't there?"
whispered Meg.
"I don't know," answered her mother. "He may have been ill. He may
not even know how long it has been since he has been home. Anyway,
darlings, the kindest thing we can do is not to bother him with
talk or questions."
Father Blossom and Mr. Harley were gone for what seemed a long
time to the children, but in reality was not more than twenty
minutes. The four little Blossoms saw them coming, Father Blossom
in the lead. Such a change had come over Mr. Harley! His shoulders
sagged, he scuffed his feet and his eyes were heavy and dull.
"I suppose you know?" he said wearily to Mother Blossom, as he
climbed into the car and Father Blossom took the wheel. "If I only
knew where she went! But she quarreled with her people when she
married me, and I never rightly knew where they lived, or who they
were."
"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?"
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