for a few
minutes."

"Oh, we will find her," said Esther cheerfully, and they ran off again.

She was back in a short while, though, and not quite so cheerful. Just as
she reached the kitchen Ephraim came in at the other door.

"Who hev been meddlin' with my new turnip-bed?" he demanded. He did not
see Esther.

"What's the matter with your turnip-bed?" asked Anna shortly. She was
just lifting her loaves out of the oven, and it was a critical moment;
besides, Anna was always 'short' with Ephraim; she had a theory that it was
good for him.

"Why, it's in such a mess as you never saw in your life; anybody'd think
there'd been a month's rain emptied over it, and all the hens in Dorsham
scratching it over, and me only sowed the seeds this morning and left it
as tidy as ever you see a bed, only so long ago as dinner-time."

Anna, looking up, caught sight of Esther. "Have 'ee found her, missie?"
she asked, taking no further notice of Ephraim.

"No," said Esther anxiously, "she isn't in the house, I'm sure."

Anna always grew cross when she was frightened. "Here," she cried,
turning sharply on Ephraim, "never mind your old turnip-bed. You just
take and look for Miss Poppy; she's the youngest of our young ladies, a
little bit of a thing, and she's lost, so you'd best go and look for her
this very minute. Look in the garden first of all. Time enough to worry
about an old garden bed when the children's all safe."

Esther, in spite of her growing trouble, could not help laughing, their
speech sounded so odd and funny, and Ephraim's face was such a picture of
offended dignity.

Penelope meanwhile, without saying a word to any one, had gone down to the
garden again, and out on to the moor. She had a feeling that Poppy might
be out there somewhere. Very likely she had gone in search of them and
missed them.

Esther, not knowing this, followed Ephraim. "She couldn't come to any
harm, even if she opened the door and got out, could she?" she asked
eagerly.

Ephraim shook his head with ponderous gravity. "I wouldn't go for to say
so much as that," he said soberly, "there's wild beastes about in plenty
on these here moors."

"Wild beasts!" Esther almost screamed with horror at the thought.
She pictured her poor little Poppy flying shrieking before a cruel wolf,
frightened nearly to death, calling for help, for her sisters--and no one
near to save her. Beyond that she dared not let her imagination go.
She felt