Mistress Condit rose and went to him.
"You will feel better, Samuel, for some breakfast," she said softly. "Indeed, we all will!"
Mehitable flew to help her mother with the breakfast preparations, wondering how she could have ever grumbled at household tasks. How inexpressibly dear seemed every detail of home life, of her home itself!
Soon the breakfast was upon the table, and for all their anxiety they ate hungrily. It was when they had finished that Mehitable asked about Mistress Dodd.
"She is dead, Hitty," returned her mother soberly. "Five motherless children left there because of the accident. I know not what poor Mr. Dodd will do!"
"We go to the funeral early this afternoon, Hitty," broke in Squire Condit. "From there Master Jones and I shall go on to Newark to search for Charity and Young Cy."
"Oh, my little girl!" moaned Mistress Condit. She clasped her hands, while the tears rained down her cheeks. "Where are you?"
Mehitable started up from her seat with flashing eyes. "Let me go to Newark with you, Father," she begged. "I can track down the scoundrel who 'ticed Cherry away!"
Her parents glanced at each other and Mistress Condit dried her tears, a faint smile glimmering upon her sad face. Yet in the end Mehitable won her point. After the sad services were performed and poor Mistress Dodd was laid away in the Burying Ground, Mistress Condit turned back toward home escorted only by Amos
