“Well, just one day, remember. I will not extend the time,” answered Mrs. White, smiling.
Miette was impatient to hear from her beloved Marie. She had sent a letter to Marie in care of the department store, and, by Mrs. White’s direction, had marked it “important.” At last came a letter in return, which caused the French girl much delight.
“It is from Marie, my Marie!” she cried, running up to Dorothy. “She is out of the hospital, and she and her folks have moved to Boston. Her folks are doing better--earning more money--and Marie is to go to school!”
“I am glad to hear that,” replied Dorothy.
“I shall write again--and tell her about my good fortune,” went on the French girl. “Some day I want her to visit me.”
“Yes, for I’d like to know her,” was Dorothy’s answer.
In the Major’s own room, later that evening, he and Dorothy discussed a plan of search for the missing gypsy girl.
“It is more than likely,” said the Major, as Dorothy sat on the stool at his feet, and he re-lighted his Christmas pipe of briar (Dorothy had sent all the way to New York for that pipe), “that the poor girl is hiding somewhere in the woods. She knows every inch of the land about here, and there are still to be found nuts and berries she might try to exist on.”
“Yes,” replied Dorothy, “that was how she lived in the Glenwood woods. And now that there are no gypsies in this township, she would feel safe to hide around here.”
“Well, I’ll tell you, daughter, to-morrow morning you and I can start off on a little tramp. It is a long time since I’ve gone through the woods with you, and we may take our lunch just as we used to, insist upon having our own little holiday all to ourselves, and then--then we will find Urania.”
“My same old darling dad!” exclaimed Dorothy, throwing her arms about the Major. “I was afraid you would be too busy to give me all that time--you have so much more land to attend to now--”
“But there’s one estate that is always first, Little Captain,” he replied, and for some moments Dorothy rested like a babe in her father’s arms.
It was not a difficult matter to persuade Miette to remain at the Cedars the next day, instead of accompanying the Major and Dorothy on their tramp. In fact, Miette would have refused to go had she been invited, for she had a fear now of the woods, and the gypsies. She remained indoors to pen another letter for her beloved Marie.