Amy's Question––––––––
"Amy!"
Mrs. Grove called from the door that opened towards the garden. But no answer came. The sun had set half an hour before, and his parting rays were faintly tinging with gold and purple, few clouds that lay just alone the edge of the western sky. In the east, the full moon was rising in all her beauty, making pale the stars that were sparking in the firmament.
"Where is Amy?" she asked. "Has any one seen her come in?"
"I saw her go up stairs with her knitting in her hand half an hour ago," said Amy's brother, who was busily at work with his knife on a block of pine wood, trying to make a boat.
Mrs. Grove went to the foot of the stairs, and called again. But there was no reply.
"I wonder where the child can be," she said to herself, a slight feeling of anxi
