“All right, let’s tell Mother,” said Winifred finally when we’d completed our eighth lap of the fields.

“That would have been my choice,” I said.

I wanted to add that if she’d chosen to do that back when I had, while still on lap number one, she would have saved us considerable wear and tear on our sneakers; but, of course, I did not say this, as Winifred had enough to contend with.

We were therefore startled when approaching Sina’s studio to see her flying out of it, radio in hand, screeching, “Oh dear! Oh dear! Franny, darling, come quickly! Winifred, Zebediah!”

We ran to her and she said nothing more, but thrust the radio out in front of us while turning up the volume.

“And the Argot, the air force’s long-distance reconnaissance plane, has been stolen from the air base in Comox. The Argot is known to be coveted by other countries for its ability to fly for days without refueling. A maintenance man, Robert Madden, is missing as well. Whether he has been kidnapped or has himself something to do with the plane’s disappearance is unknown at this point.”

“That’s what this has been about? He’s stolen a plane? Mother must know. That’s what she must have meant by saying he was going to do something stupid,” Winifred wailed, and then she finally satisfied Sina’s every secret prognostication by breaking into sobs every bit as hysterical and racking as Crying Alice’s.

Sina and I could think of nothing to say to comfort her. And before we could, a car came barreling down the farm road, nearly running us over in its urgency. It came to a crunching crash right beside us, and out leapt Mrs. Brookman. “Oh good, dear,” she said, running up to Winifred and clutching her by the shoulders. “Quickly. Your mother called the store and wants you children to call her back. Where are your brothers?”

Through her wails Winifred said, “Wilfred is fishing … sob sob … not back until we don’t know when … sob sob sob … and Zebediah is somewhere in the woods … sob sob sob cough sob cough … with a hermit.” She said the last as if Zebediah had purposefully chosen the most ridiculous companion possible out of pure spite.

“Zebediah!” said Sina. “If he comes home for lunch while we’re gone, he’ll be worried. I’ll leave him a sandwich and a note saying we’re at Brookman’s. There’s no point telling him about his father until we learn more.”

She dashed inside while Mrs. Brookman turned once more to Winifred. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I guess it’s up to you alone to make the call…”

We waited impatiently until Sina came back outside. Then Mrs. Brookman said to Winifred, who looked stunned, “Come, there’s no time to waste,” and hustled us to her car.