-stairs, went from his room into
Pat's, and then walked down the hall.

"Pat!" he called. "Patrick!" The voice sounded stern but really its
undertone was anxiety.

Pat did not speak. He scrambled to his feet and descended the stairs.
With set mouth and downcast eyes, he stood before his father.

"Did I not tell you to go to your room, Pat?"

"Yes, father." Pat paused in the doorway. "I want to know where Anne
is," he said.

"Patrick!" Mr. Patterson spoke sternly now. "You forget yourself
strangely to address me in this way. I refuse to answer."

He turned on his heel and left his son. And he left a breach between
them which the days and weeks widened instead of closing. Pat, feeling
that it would be useless to question his father any more, did not
mention Anne's name again. He picked up his old comrades and went
walking, swimming, and canoeing, keeping as much away from his father as
possible. Mr. Patterson busied himself with office affairs, looking
forward with relief to the end of the so-longed-for vacation. In a few
days, Miss Drayton would join them to take Pat with her to the
Adirondacks.

At this very time, Miss Drayton, too, was bearing about a disturbed
heart. She was fond of Anne and had always regretted her being sent to
an orphanage, but the feeling was not strong enough to make her reclaim
the child. Anne's uncle was a criminal, after all, and she herself had a
strange secret. How could she have acquired those jewels but by theft?
Miss Drayton shrank from the responsibility of such a child. Perhaps the
strict oversight of an asylum was best for her.

This course of thought was abruptly changed by the receipt of a letter
forwarded from Washington to the Maryland village where Miss Drayton was
visiting. It was a many-postmarked much-travelled letter, that had
journeyed far and long before it reached her. Mailed in Liverpool, it
was sent to Nantes, in care of the American consul. It had been held,
under the supposition that the lady to whom it was addressed might come
to the city and ask for mail sent there for safe keeping. Finally, the
unclaimed letter was sent to the American embassy at Paris. There it
tarried awhile. Then it fell into the hands of a secretary who knew Miss
Drayton, and he sent the letter to the Washington post-office,
requesting that her street and number be supplied.

This was done, and the ten-months-old letter reached Miss Drayton one
July afternoon. She glanced curiously fro