over one ear, and she'll be perfectly
astonished to know that it's after twelve o'clock. Oh, you don't know
Aunt Abigail as well as I do."

But though they searched the section of the woods Jerry had designated
as the _habitat_ of the rare fern, and called Aunt Abigail's name
at frequent intervals, there was no answer, nor did they find anything
to indicate that there had been an earlier visitor to the locality.
Amy's confidence seemed a little shaken by this discovery and she made
no objection to the rapidity of their return to the cottage. Ruth came
hurrying out to meet them. "Has she come?" Amy called, her voice
betraying her change of mood.

"No. Haven't you found her?" It was of course an unnecessary question,
for the anxious faces of the two girls would have told that their quest
had been unsuccessful, even if their failure had not been sufficiently
demonstrated by the fact that Aunt Abigail was not accompanying them.

"We'd better go right over to Coles'," Peggy said after a minute's
pause. "Perhaps Mrs. Cole found she was alone, and asked her to dinner."

"I've been there," was Ruth's disappointing reply. "And I went down to
Mrs. Snooks', too. I thought Aunt Abigail might have gone there to
borrow something. You know she was so unwilling to give up the idea. But
Mrs. Snooks was sitting out on the porch, and she said she hadn't seen
her."

The others had gathered around them as they stood talking. The speckled
chicken, who, as a result of being brought up "by hand," was developing
an extravagant fondness for human society, came up peeping shrilly,
evidently under the impression that in so sizable a gathering, there
must be some one who had nothing better to do than minister to his
wants. Hobo, too, made his appearance, and he alone of the company gave
no sign of mental disturbance. Amy pushed him away impatiently as he
rubbed against her, the effect of worry on Amy's temperament having the
not unusual result of making her short-tempered. Then a bright idea
flashed into her head.

"Peggy, maybe he could track her."

"Who could?"

"Why, Hobo. We can let him smell something Aunt Abigail has worn, and
then if he's any good, he ought to be able to follow the trail. I don't
see how we're going to hunt for her, unless we try something like that."

Peggy did not regard the suggestion in a particularly hopeful light, but
at the same time she had nothing better to suggest. To continue the
search for Aunt Abigai