A PUZZLING OCCURRENCE
That evening Rico was later than usual in returning to the house, for
the grandmother's singing lesson had taken some time. The aunt met him
at the door.
"So this is the way you have begun!" she said sharply. "Your supper
has been waiting for you long enough, so you may go to bed without it.
I am sure it will not be my fault if you become a tramp. Any drudgery
would be better than taking care of a boy like you."
Usually Rico made no response to her faultfinding. To-night he met her
angry look with an expression of determination that she had never seen
in his face before.
"Very well," he replied quietly, "I will take myself out of your way."
He said nothing more, and as he went up to his dark bedroom he heard
his aunt bolt the door.
The following evening, when the neighboring household had gathered
about the table for supper, the aunt surprised them by coming to the
door to inquire for Rico. She had not seen him that day.
"Don't worry," said Stineli's father, cheerfully; "he'll come when
he's hungry."
As soon as the aunt saw that the boy had not taken refuge at the
neighbor's, she went on to explain that in the early morning she had
found the door unbolted. At first she had supposed that her trouble
with Rico had made her forget to fasten it, but when she saw that he
was not in his room and that his bed had not been slept in, she
concluded that he had run away.
"If that is the case, something has surely happened to him," said the
father. "He may have fallen into a crevasse on the mountain. A boy
climbing about in the dark might easily break his neck. You were wrong
not to speak of it sooner, for how is any one to find him, now that
the daylight is gone?"
"Of course everybody will blame _me_ for it," the aunt retorted. "That
is the way when a person is uncomplaining. No one will believe" (and
here she told the truth) "what a stubborn, malicious, deceitful child
he has been, nor how he has made my life miserable all through these
long, long years. He will never be anything but an idle tramp."
The grandmother could bear no more in silence. She rose from the
table, her eyes flashing with indignation.
"Stop, neighbor, for pity's sake!" she protested. "I know Rico very
well. Ever since the father brought him here I have seen him almost
constantly. Instead of saying harsh things about the child remember
what danger he may be in this very minute. Don't you suppose that he
may also have some reason to complain?"
The aunt had been thinking all day of Rico's words, "I will take
myself out of your way," and trying to justify her own position. Now
the grandmother's rebuke made her ashamed. "I will go back," she said,
as she stepped out into the dark field. "Rico may have come home while
I have been standing here." In her heart she knew that she would be
glad to find this true, but the little house was empty and still.
Early the next morning the neighbors set forth to search carefully in
the ravines and along the approaches to the glacier. When Stineli's
father noticed that she had followed the others he said, "That is
right, Stineli; you can get into places where bigger folk could not
go."
"But, father," said Stineli, "if Rico went up the road he couldn't
have fallen into any such place, could he?"
"Of course he could!" said the father. "He was such a dreamer that it
would have been easy enough for him to lose his way. He probably paid
no attention to where he was going, and wandered off toward the
mountains."
A great fear entered Stineli's heart when she heard this. For days she
could scarcely eat or sleep and she went listlessly about her work as
if she did not know what she was doing.
No one could be found who had seen Rico since the night he left home.
As time went on he was given up for dead. The neighbors tried to
console one another by saying: "He is better off as it is. The child
had no one to look after him properly."