"Daddy, bring mover back," quivered Elsie, when he kissed her good-bye.
Waldstricker stooped and gathered her into his arms.
"Daddy'll bring Elsie lots of pretty things, and so will Santa Claus.
He's coming down the chimney tonight--"
"Elsie wants mover," sobbed the little one.
Ebenezer surrendered her to the nurse.
"Get her mind off crying," he said morosely. "Give her everything she asks for."
"I can't," muttered the woman, and when the door had closed, "There, there, child, don't cry! Your mother'll be comin' back some of these days."
In the early afternoon Waldstricker bought and packed into the sleigh all kinds of presents for his daughter. His spirits rose when he thought that her demands for her mother would be quieted on Christmas Day.
It was quite dark when his powerful team fought their way through the storm up to the porch of the house. While the man was coming for the horses he took the bundles from the sleigh. At the door he met several white-faced servants.
"What's the matter?" he queried, relieving his arms of their load.
"The baby!... We can't find her.... She's gone," said a voice.
"Gone! Gone where?" roared Waldstricker.
"Nobody knows, sir," gasped the nurse. "She was in the library looking at the pictures--"
Waldstricker brushed past the speaker. He rushed through the house calling his child frantically. In his wife's sitting room he stopped, arrested by an illuminating thought.
Helen had stolen the baby! He drew a long breath that hissed through his teeth. Of course, that was what had happened. Instant anger filled his mind. He'd show her. He wouldn't stand it. He went below and called the servants into his presence.
"Who was here this morning?" he questioned.
"Nobody." Not one of them had seen a person.
"Mrs. Waldstricker was here, wasn't she?" he insisted.
"No, Mrs. Waldstricker hasn't been home today."
The elder set his grim lips and went out again. Elsie was with her mother! That Helen hadn't been to the house didn't prove anything. She'd sent some one. Elsie wouldn't have gone away of her own accord.
When Ebenezer appeared at Madelene's home he was fuming with fury. His sister greeted him cordially and ushered him into the drawing room.
"I'm glad you've come, Ebenezer. Helen's been crying ever since she's been here."
"I'll make her cry more before I'm done with her," gritted Waldstricker.
"But, Ebenezer, she's sick. And you were so cruel to send her away like that."
Waldstricker turned savagely upon the speaker, hands working convulsively and face and eyes ugly from fear and anger.
"Never mind about that now--Where's Elsie?" he demanded. "I want her and I want her right away."
Madelene fell back a step, wax-white.
"Elsie!" she echoed. "Isn't she home?"
"Madelene," Ebenezer began in a deadening voice, "you know me well enough not to play with me like this. Where's my daughter?"
Madelene's hands came together.
"She's not here!... She's home, Ebbie, dear, she must be!"
"She's not!" fell from Waldstricker. "Call Helen!"
"Helen can't come down, Ebbie, she's in bed!"
"I'll see her." Low thunder rolled in his tones. His sister grasped his arm.
"Be kind to her, Ebbie, dear--"
"I'll see her," repeated Ebenezer, not changing the tone of his voice.
Without another word, Madelene whirled and went toward the stairs, the church elder following his sister with slow tread.
Helen turned her tired, white face to the visitors. At the sight of her husband she sat up straight.
"Where's Elsie?" the man shouted harshly from the door.
Something had happened to her little girl! Her husband was asking for the child! Mrs. Waldstricker jumped out of bed quickly.
"I haven't seen her," she answered. "Isn't she home?"
Then Waldstricker believed. Elsie had disappeared. She was not with her mother!
"She's gone," was all he said, and, wheeling, went out.
Not one of the servants could tell Madelene or the distracted mother any more than they had told the father.
The search began without the slightest clue of the child's whereabouts.
Elsie had disappeared, as if she had been snatched into the sky. The storm, already very severe, had thickened the early twilight into dense darkness. The light snow that had fallen earlier in the day to the depth of several inches drove in swirling clouds before the wind and piled in deep drifts, while the congealed air pelted icy particles of frozen moisture into the confused uproar upon forest and field. Fear that the child had started out to find her mother and had been overtaken by the blizzard obsessed Waldstricker. He sent messengers in all directions, and himself rode furiously through the snow inquiring everywhere. Finding no trace of her at the neighboring houses, he instituted a systematic search of the locality.
All the afternoon Young had sat with Tessibel, most of the time in silence. She showed no desire to talk, and he knew not what to say.