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the while how he could discover the place to which Alice had been removed, and how he should tell Christie. He met several people on the road, but noticed none of them, and reached his own house without having exchanged a word with any one he knew. He let himself in, and with a sinking heart, opened the parlour door. "Dear heart, Master Hall!" said the voice of Collet Pardue, who was seated by Christie's couch, "but there's ill news in your face! What's ado, prithee?" "Oh, Father, is Aunt Alice sick?" cried Christie. Roger came round to the couch, and knelt down, one hand clasping that of his little girl, and the other tenderly laid upon her head. "My Christie," he said, "they have taken Aunt Alice away, I know not whither. But our Father knows. Perchance He will show us. But whether or not, all is well with her, for she is in His care that loveth her more than we." CHAPTER FIFTEEN. MR. BENDEN'S DESSERT. "Taken her away from the gaol! and you wot not whither? Well, Roger Hall, you're as pretty a man of your hands as ever I did behold!" "How signify you, Sister Tabitha?" "Would I ever have turned back from Canterbury till I'd found out? Marry, not I! I'd have known all about it in half a twink." "Please, Aunt Tabitha, if you have half a twink to spare--I know not what it is, but I suppose you do--won't you go and find out Aunt Alice?" This practical suggestion from Christie was quietly ignored. "'Tis right like a man as ever I did see! Catch a woman turning back in that fashion afore she'd half done her work!" "But, Aunt Tabitha," urged Christie, for her father sat in silence, and she felt herself bound to defend him, "have you forgotten what the porter said to Father? If they--" "Pack o' nonsense!" snorted Aunt Tabitha. "He would fain keep him from continual coming, and he spake out the first thing that came in his head, that's all. None but a babe like thee should take any note of such rubbish. Can't you speak up, Roger Hall? or did you drop your tongue where you left your wits?" "Methinks you have a sufficiency for us both, Tabitha," said Roger quietly, leaving it uncertain whether he alluded to the tongue or the wits. "Mean you to go again to-morrow?" "That cannot I yet say. I lack time to think--and to pray likewise." "Lack time to _think_! Gramercy me! How long doth a man want to gather up his wits together? I should have thought of fifty things whilst I
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