That was the last seen of him. In
the morning he was not.
At first we were not seriously alarmed. Paddy was no roving
Thomas, but occasionally he vanished for a day or so. But when
two days passed without his return we became anxious, the third
day worried us greatly, and the fourth found us distracted.
"Something has happened to Pat," the Story Girl declared
miserably. "He never stayed away from home more than two days in
his life."
"What could have happened to him?" asked Felix.
"He's been poisoned--or a dog has killed him," answered the Story
Girl in tragic tones.
Cecily began to cry at this; but tears were of no avail. Neither
was anything else, apparently. We searched every nook and cranny
of barns and out-buildings and woods on both the King farms; we
inquired far and wide; we roved over Carlisle meadows calling
Paddy's name, until Aunt Janet grew exasperated and declared we
must stop making such exhibitions of ourselves. But we found and
heard no trace of our lost pet. The Story Girl moped and refused
to be comforted; Cecily declared she could not sleep at night for
thinking of poor Paddy dying miserably in some corner to which he
had dragged his failing body, or lying somewhere mangled and torn
by a dog. We hated every dog we saw on the ground that he might
be the guilty one.
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