"What do you _suppose_ has become of him?" demanded the poor mother,
worried beyond expression at the mysterious disappearance of her son.

"I can't tell, mother."

"Don't you think we had better call up the neighbors, and have something
done about it?"

"I don't know," replied John, hardly less anxious than his mother.

"I don't suppose they would be able to find him if we did," added Mrs.
Somers, wiping away the tears from her face.

"I can't think anything has happened to him, mother. If he had been on the
water, or anything of that kind, I should feel worse about it."

"If I only knew where he was, I shouldn't feel so bad about it," said she;
and her position, certainly, was a reasonable one.

"What's the matter, sister?" called gran'ther Greene, from his chamber.
"Hasn't that boy got home yet?"

"No, he hasn't come yet, and I am worried to death about him," replied
Mrs. Somers, opening the door of her brother's room.

"What o'clock is it?"

"After twelve. Thomas never stayed out so late in his life before. What do
you suppose has become of him?"