long, she knelt to ask for
stronger aid than any human being could give.

If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that
forlorn plea for the lost sister!

All through the night they waited in vain.

* * * * *

The first page of every New York paper carried the sensational story of
the disappearance of Lorna Barton. Not that such a happening was
unusual, but in view of the white slavery arrests and the gang fight in
which Bobbie Burke had figured so prominently; his partial connection
with the case, and those details which the fertile-minded reporters
could fill in, it was full of human interest, and "yellow" as the heart
of any editor could desire.

Pale and heart-sick Mary went down to Monnarde's next morning. The
girls crowded about her in the wardrobe room, some to express real
sympathy, others to show their condescension to one whom they inwardly
felt was far superior in manners, appearance and ability.

Mary thanked them, and dry-eyed went to her place behind the counter.
For reasons best known to himself, the manager was late in arriving
that morning. The minutes seemed century-long to Mary as she hoped
against hope.

A surprisingly early customer was Mrs. Trubus, who came hurrying in
from her big automobile. She went to Mary's counter and observed the
girl's demeanor.

"Dear, was it your sister that I read about in the paper this morning?"
she inquired.

"Yes," very meekly. Mary tried to hold back the tears which seemed so
near the surface.

"I am so sorry. I remembered that you once spoke of your sister when
you were waiting on me. The paper said that she worked here at
Monnarde's, and I remembered my promise of yesterday that I would do
anything for you that I could. Mr. Trubus is greatly interested in
philanthropic work, and of course what I could do would be very small
in comparison to his influence. But if there is a single thing...."

"There's not, I'm afraid. Oh, I'm so miserable--and my poor dear old
daddy!"

Even as she spoke the manager came bustling into the store. He had
evidently passed an uncomfortable night himself, although from an
entirely different cause. In his hand he bore the morning paper, which
he just bought outside the door from one of several newsboys who stood
there shouting about the "candy store mystery," as one paper had
headlined it.

"See, here!" cried he, turning to Mary at once. "What do you mean by
b