"What on airth makes you look so?"

"Father's lost."

"Lost--where's he lost? What d'ye mean?"

"Went to get a load of wood for Doctor Prescott this mornin', an'
'ain't got home."

"Now, I want to know! Didn't I see his team go up the road a few
minutes ago?"

Jerome nodded. "Met it, an' he wa'n't on," said he.

"Lord!" cried the man, and stared at him. He was a middle-aged man,
with a small wiry shape and a gait like a boy's. His name was Jake
Noyes, and he was the doctor's hired man. He took care of his horse,
and drove for him, and some said helped him compound his
prescriptions. There was great respect in the village for Jake Noyes.
He had a kind of reflected glory from the doctor, and some of his
own.

Jerome pulled his shoulder away. "Got to be goin'," said he.

"Stop," said Jake Noyes. "This has got to be looked into. He must
have got hurt. He must be in the woods where he was workin'."

"Ain't. I've been there," said Jerome, shortly, and broke away.

"Where did ye look?"