anticipated the worst.

John entered the kitchen, and carelessly flung his cap upon the table.
Mrs. Somers looked at him, and waited patiently to hear any intelligence
he might bring. But John threw himself into a chair, looking more gloomy
than before he left the house. He did not speak, and therefore he had no
good news to tell.

"You didn't see anything of him--did you?" asked Mrs. Somers; but it was a
useless question, for she had already interpreted the meaning of his
downcast looks.

"No, mother; there isn't a man, woman, or child stirring in the village;
and I didn't see a light in a single house."

"What do you suppose can have become of him?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Tom is old enough and smart enough to take care of
himself."

"It's very strange."

"So it is. I haven't any idea what has become of him."

"Did you look around Squire Pemberton's house, where he was seen last?"

"I looked about on both sides of the road, going and coming from the
Harbor. I whistled all the way, and if he had been any where round, he
would have whistled back, as he always does."