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Updated: May 29, 2025
Ashamed of having allowed her indignation to carry her so far, she was, however, inclined to be conciliatory; and therefore, with an effort, managed to say, as if nothing had happened: "Come, Tilderee! Watch at the window for father, while I get dinner ready."
What a happy stillness reigned in the house for hours, while Tilderee was tenderly brought back from the verge of starvation! In the beginning she was too feeble to speak; but after a while Mrs. Prentiss noticed that she wanted to say something, and, bending over her, caught the tremulous words: "Oh mother, I'll never be disobedient any more!"
A patch of yellow wild flowers by the way appeared all at once endowed with wings, as from their midst arose a flight of golden butterflies. What fun to chase them! Fudge thought so too, and a merry pursuit followed. Tired and out of breath, Tilderee paused at last. Fudge returned with a bound to her side, and stood panting and wagging his tail, as if to ask: "Well, what shall we play next?"
The only one of the family who could afford to do nothing was six-year-old Tilderee, though they thought she did a good deal that is, all except Joan; for she seemed to make everybody's else burden lighter by her merriness, her droll sayings, and sweet, loving little ways.
Peter galloped wildly to and fro upon Twinkling Hoofs, without an idea where he was going. Joan cried as though her heart would break. Fudge had disappeared also. Had he gone with Tilderee? There was a grain of comfort in the suggestion; yet, even so, what could a poor baby do, astray and with no other defender? Evening came, and still there was no trace of the child.
Prentiss, mounted on the old grey horse, rode to the Fort to sell her butter and eggs, Peter went with her on Twinkling Hoofs; and each took the precaution to carry a pistol for self-defence in case of attack. This being the state of affairs, great was the alarm of all one day as it became evident that Tilderee was missing.
But the sight of the child's tears, instead of appeasing, only irritated Joan the more. Giving her a smart shake, she said excitedly: "Tilderee Prentiss, you're a naughty, naughty girl! I wish you didn't live here. I wish mother had let you go with the lady at the Fort who wanted to adopt you. I wish I hadn't any little sister at all!"
She never wanted even to see the doll again. Tilderee might get up a "make-believe" funeral, and bury it under the white rosebush. Yes, that would be the prettiest spot; and for old affection's sake the thing should be done properly if she came back, ah, if!
No one knew better than Joan, however, just how tantalizing Tilderee could be, how she dallied in the morning playing hide-and-seek, refusing to have her face washed and her tangled hair brushed into shining curls; this, too, when Joan was in the greatest hurry to go and give the fluffy chicks and the grave old fowl their breakfast.
And then Joan would put her head down upon the table or a chair, whichever happened to be near, or hide her face in the folds of her apron, and cry: "What shall I do without Tilderee! Oh, if God will only give her back to us, I will never say a cross or angry word again!" Dawn brought no news of the lost child, and the dreary night of suspense was succeeded by a day of anguish.
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