Mellony's door and stepped into
the room.

She had been mistaken in supposing that Mellony was asleep; the girl
must have risen early and slipped out, for the room was empty, and Mrs.
Pember paused, surprised that she had not heard her go. It must have
been while she was getting kindling-wood in the yard that Mellony had
left by the street door. And what could she have wanted so early in the
village?--for to the village she must have gone; she was nowhere about
the little place, whose flatness dropped, treeless, to the shore. Her
mother went again to the kitchen, and glanced up and down the waterside.
There was no one on the little wooden pier, and the boats swung gently
by its side, their own among them, so Mellony had not gone out in that.
Yes, she must have gone to the village, and Mrs. Pember opened the front
door and scanned the wandering little street. It was almost empty; the
early morning activity of the place was in other directions.

With the vague uneasiness that unaccustomed and unexplained absence
always produces, but with no actual apprehension, Mrs. Pember went back
to her work. Mellony had certain mild whims of her own, but it was
surprising that she should have left her room in disorder, the bed
unmade; that was not like her studious neatness. With a certain grimness
Mrs. Pember ate her breakfast alone. Of course no harm had come to
Mellony, but where was she? Unacknowledged, the shadow of Ira Baldwin
fell across her wonder. Had Mellony cared so much for him that her
disappointment had driven her to something wild and fatal? She did not
ask the question, but her lips grew white and stiff at the faintest
suggestion of it. Several times she went to the door, meaning to go out,
and up the street to look for her daughter, but each time something
withheld her. Instead, with that determination that distinguished her,
she busied herself with trifling duties. It was quite nine o'clock when
she saw Captain Phippeny coming up the street. She stood still and
watched him approach. His gait was more rolling than ever, as he came
slowly towards her, and he glanced furtively ahead at her house, and
then dropped his eyes and pretended not to have seen her. She grew
impatient to have him reach her, but she only pressed her lips together
and stood the more rigidly still. At last he stood in front of her
doorstone, his hat in his hand. The yellow shirt and the leathern jacket
were more succinctly audacious than ever, but