less--friendless--all alone--was little Anne.

Surely there was some clew that they might follow to reach the child.
Miss Drayton and Pat went to 'Roseland' to hear the story from Mrs.
Marshall's own lips. She could give them no help. She and her husband
had done all that was possible. They would have done this for the
child's own sake. They were doubly bound to do it for the sake of their
sons who were heart-broken about Anne. Arthur was always begging them to
let Anne come back to see him. Dunlop understood that she was lost and
refused to be comforted.

Miss Drayton and Pat went into the nursery and found the children at
supper.

"I know, it's late, ma'am," said Martha, helplessly; "but Master Dunlop
he wouldn't let me have it afore. Do eat now, Master Dunlop. Here's this
nice strawberry jam."

Dunlop took up the spoon, then paused to ask, "Do you reckon Anne has
any strawberry jam for her supper?"

Pat shook his head.

Dunlop's lip quivered. "Then I don't want any. Take it away, Martha,"
and he pushed aside the spoon.

"Do with Anne wath here," lisped Arthur. "I got her thweater yolled up
smooth to keep for her. Whyn't she come?"

No one could tell him.

Miss Farlow wished Miss Drayton, according to Mr. Mayo's request, to
take charge of the child's jewels. But Miss Drayton refused.

"You keep them, please," she urged. "If--when Anne comes back, it will
be to you. She does not know where we are. Oh, I cannot bear the sight
of those miserable jewels," she exclaimed. "The mere thought of them
reminds me how I misjudged our poor child."

There was nothing she could do in Richmond and she hurried back to
Washington to consult her brother-in-law. How unlike the merry journey
of the day before was the silent, miserable trip!

"Don't take it so hard, dear boy," Miss Drayton said, clasping Pat's
hand which lay limp in hers a minute and was then withdrawn. "We may
find her yet,--well and happy."

She spoke in a half-hearted way and Pat shook his head hopelessly.
"She's been gone two weeks," he said, "and no sign of her. I think about
her--like that woman said--homeless--friendless--all alone--a little
lost child--in the wet and dark, like last night." There was a moment's
silence. Then Pat spoke again: "Aunt Sarah, I shall never feel the same
to father. It is his fault. He ought not to have put her there. He
ought to have told me where she was. If he had told me when I asked
him--that was three weeks ago, you