intolerable. Why did not Anastasia hurry? What a horridname to give a servant! and what a horrid servant she was. Harriet inher agony gave the bell another and more furious pull.
It was opened this time by a stout, red faced lady. "Now, little girl,"she said, "if you dare to ring the doctor's bell again in this rudemanner I shall complain to your--oh, my dear!" she continued, changingher voice, "I beg your pardon, I thought it was little Susan Wright fromacross the road. That child requires keeping in her place; she isalways playing practical jokes. But what is it, my dear little girl?Come in, pray. Do you want Dr Tyke?"
"No, no!" said Harriet. "Don't keep me, please. I have come for thelittle boy in the drawing-room."
"The little boy in the drawing-room?" said Mrs Pyke, who wondered ifHarriet were very ill and a little off her head. "But I know nothing ofany little boy in the drawing-room."
"Oh, please let me go for him," said Harriet, trying to push past thestout lady. "He is there, I know, for I left him there. He is littleRalph--little Ralph Durrant. I told him to wait for me; I know I amlate, but let me go for him at once, please."
"You can go into the drawing-room, of course," said Mrs Pyke; "althoughI must say you puzzle me very much, for I know of no little boy there.The doctor and I are having a cosy little supper in the drawing-room atthe present moment; we often do of an evening to get away from thechildren, and I assure you there is no little boy in the room."
Nevertheless, Harriet would go for herself. Ralph must be where she haddesired him to stay. With her face very white, her whole appearanceexceedingly wild, and her poor little heart beating almost tosuffocation, she poked about the untidy and ugly drawing-room. Shelooked under sofas and behind curtains, and finally burst into tears.
"He is not here--he is gone! What will become of me?" she sobbed.
"Why," said Dr Pyke, who had not recognised her at first, "why, surelyI cannot be mistaken--you are one of the little girls from Abbeyfield!My dear child, sit down and tell my wife and me at once what is thematter."
"Oh, I must not stay," said Harriet, struggling to suppress her tears;"but I--oh, it is too dreadful!" And then she told, as best she could,the story of her day's adventure. "I should not have done it," she saidin conclusion, "but it was so tempting, and I thought of course he wouldwait for me."
"This, my dear," said Dr Pyke, turning to his wife, when Harriet hadfinished speaking, "is one of my little patients at Abbeyfield. Hername is Harriet Lane, and I am thankful to say that, as a rule, she doesnot put many pennies into the doctor's pocket; but, my dear child, ifyou give way like this you will be ill, and then I shall be the richer,and you the poorer. Come now, stop crying; of course you have donewrong, but doubtless you have no cause for alarm. The little boy, mydear wife, is little Ralph Durrant. His father--you must know hisfather's name, of course--_the_ Durrant, you know, the great Africanexplorer. I have seen the little fellow, a most sweet little man. I amsure, my dear child, that we shall find your little friend safe atschool. And now, if you will take my hand, I will bring you back toAbbeyfield, and try to explain what has occurred."
"Oh, oh!" sobbed Harriet. "Oh, oh--I am too miserable. I am certainthat Ralph--little Ralph, is lost!"
Book 1--CHAPTER TWELVE.
IN THE HIGH WOODS.
Alas! Harriet was right. When they reached the house, and when shewildly enquired of Miss Ford if Ralph were anywhere about, she was metby that astonished woman's instant denial.
"Where have you been yourself?" said Miss Ford, speaking in greatagitation. "We wondered what you and Ralph could be doing, and now youcome here without him, and--and--Dr Pyke, you have brought her! Isanything wrong?"
"I greatly fear there is, Miss Ford," said the doctor. "Please don'tscold this poor child at present. There is no doubt she has behavedvery badly, but our immediate duty is to find the poor little fellow."
"What poor little fellow? Oh, how you terrify me," said Miss Ford.
"Little Ralph Durrant," said the doctor. "The fact is, Harriet broughthim to my house this afternoon--"
"You dared!" began Miss Ford.
"Oh yes," said the doctor; "she dared a good deal. She was verynaughty, we know that, but there's no use in thinking of her at present.She left Ralph in my drawing-room, and when she came back for him, hewas gone."
"Oh!" said Miss Ford, "what is to be done?"
"You are certain he has not returned here?"
"Certain?" said the poor teacher; "of course I am certain. But I willgo and enquire: I will look everywhere."
Miss Ford did look. She searched the house; she questioned the maids,she went to Ralph's own little bedroom, she even penetrated to that snugnest where Curly Pate lay like a ball of down. Nowhere was Ralph to befound. She came back at last, with a pale face, to the doctor.
"The child has not returned," she said. "What is to be done?"
"We must lose no time," said Dr Pyke. "Harriet--"
Harriet had seated herself on the first chair. She sat there huddledup. There is no other word to describe her appearance. Her hat waspushed forward over her eyes, and those eyes were red with crying. Now,however, her great terror prevented any further flow of tears.
"Harriet," repeated the doctor, sternly.
"Yes, sir."
"You know more about Ralph than I do. Have you the least--the slightestidea where he may have gone?"
Harriet thought of the gipsies. She remembered how she had promisedRalph to take him to see them; how she had failed in her promise.
"Perhaps,"--she said--"oh, I don't know--but he was very much excitedabout the gipsies; he may have gone to them."
"We will send at once to enquire," said Miss Ford. "We must on noaccount wait until Mrs Burton returns; there is not an instant tolose."
"I will go myself," said the doctor. "I know where their encampment is.It is really scarcely likely that they have the child. Gipsies don'toften steal children now-a-days. We may find the little fellowanywhere. I will also call at the police station, and get the police tobegin to search for him."
When Dr Pyke left the house, Miss Ford turned to Harriet.
"A nice sort of school-mother you have made," she said. "You don'tsuppose that you will win your pony after this, you bad girl. Come withme at once into the third form parlour, and wait there until Mrs Burtonreturns. She will then decide what is to be done with you."
"I don't want any pony," suddenly sobbed Harriet. "I only want Ralph.I know I am desperately naughty, but I don't want anything in all theworld now but Ralph."
"It is easy for you to talk like that now that you have neglected thepoor little fellow so shamefully, and disobeyed Mrs Burton's strictestorders. Come with me at once, you bad child."
Harriet went. So subdued was she, that she did not even hate Miss Fordfor speaking to her in this way. A minute later, she found herself inthe third form special parlour. One electric light was on. It threw adim reflection over the scene. Harriet looked round at the familiarobjects--the table in the middle, the story-books, the globes in theircorner, the birds in their cages, and the parrot in his cage.
The small birds were all asleep. The books and toys, and tables andchairs could not move; but the parrot was wide awake, and very muchalive. He hopped from side to side and looked hard at Harriet. Atlast, he screamed in a noisy, shrill tone:
"Mind what you're about! Ha, ha! Mind what you're about! Ha, ha!"
Poor Harriet. She flung herself down on the floor and cried as thoughher heart would break. She was only a little girl still, and not allbad. That pony with his side-saddle, that perfectly made habit, all thedelights which she had sinned so deeply to obtain, would have been asashes now in her mouth. She only wanted Ralph now, and Ralph was faraway. Why had she behaved so badly? Oh what, what was happening?
Her agony became almost unendurable. Suddenly, she perceived that thedoor of the parlour had not been shut, that it was a little ajar. Whyneed she sit there? It was so awful t
o remain still; so frightful to donothing at all.
She stole softly to the door, opened it, and peeped out. There was noone in the hall, and the hall door itself stood wide open.
"Mind what you're about. Ha, ha!" shrieked the parrot.
But Harriet was in no mood to mind. She crossed the hall on tip-toe,rushed to the open door, drew a deep breath, and the next moment wasskimming herself, light as a bird, over the ground in the direction ofthe gipsy encampment. Harriet could, indeed, run like the wind, andnever had she ran faster than on this