re before dark and
won't come back until daylight."

"What do you mean?" asked Ruth, sharply.

"I know she's afraid as she can be of the dark. She's a regular baby about
that. Of course, she won't own up to it."

"Why! I never knew it," Ruth exclaimed.

"She wouldn't go fishing because I start so early--while it's still dark.
Catch _her_ out of the house before sun-up!"

"Oh, Curly! I blame myself," gasped Ruth. "I never knew that about her.
Are you sure?"

"'Course I am. She's scared of the dark. I can make her mad any time by
just hinting at it. So that proves it, don't it?" responded this young
philosopher.

"Maybe she has gone somewhere and is afraid to come back till morning,"
repeated Ruth.

"She's been after me to take her up to that dam where we caught the fish,
in the afternoon; but I told her we couldn't get home before pitch dark. I
ought to have taken her along, I guess, and said nothing," Curly added
reflectively.

"Last night she was talking about it. She said I should take her because I
took you there."

"You don't suppose she's gone clear over there by herself, do you?" Ruth
cried, in alarm.

"I don't believe she knows how to start, even," Curly said easily. "And I
told her last night she'd better not go anywhere till she got rid of that
sore throat."

"Sore throat!" repeated Ruth, with added worriment. "I never knew her
throat was sore."

"She told me, she did," Curly said. "It was pretty bad, I guess, too. I
guess maybe she was afraid to say anything about it. I don't like to tell
Gran when there's anything the matter with me. She mixes up such nasty
messes for me to take!"

"The poor child!" murmured Ruth, thinking only of Amy Gregg. "What _shall_
we do?"

"I'll get a lantern and we'll go hunt around for her," suggested Curly,
ripe for any adventure.

"But where will we hunt?"

"Maybe she's gone with some other girl somewhere."

"You know that can't be so," Ruth said. "There isn't a girl friendly
enough with her for her to say ten pleasant words to. The poor little
mite! I'm just as sorry as I can be for her, Curly."

"Well!" returned Curly, "what did she want to tell a story for? I know
what she did. She left the candle burning in her room because she was
afraid to come back to it in the dark after supper. I made her own up to
that."

"Oh! the poor child!" cried Ruth.

"And she didn't understand the electric light. They don't have electricity
in the town where she comes