ill looked wretched. Harry, who himself looked more than
usually worn and old, kept glancing at her, as they hastened along.

"See here, darling," he said, "hadn't you better not go to school
to-day? I will write a note of explanation myself to the principal,
at the office, and mail it in New York. Hadn't you better turn around
and go home and rest to-day?"

"Oh no," replied Maria. "I would much rather go, papa."

"You look as if you could hardly stand up, much less go to school."

"I am all right," said Maria; but as she spoke she realized that her
knees fairly bent under her, and her heart beat loudly in her ears,
for they had come in sight of the station.

"You are sure?" Harry said, anxiously.

"Yes, I am all right. I want to go to school."

"Well, look out that you eat a good luncheon," said Harry, as he
kissed her good-bye.

Maria had to go to the other side to take her Wardway train. She left
her father and went under the bridge and mounted the stairs. When she
gained the platform, the first person whom she saw, with a grasp of
vision which seemed to reach her very heart, although she apparently
did not see him at all, was Wollaston Lee. He also saw her, and his
boyish face paled. There were quite a number waiting for the train,
which was late. Maud Page was among them. Maria at once went close to
her. Maud asked about her little sister. She had heard that she was
found, although it was almost inconceivable how the news had spread
at such an early hour.

"I am real glad she's found," said Maud. Then she stared curiously at
Maria. "Say, was it so?" she asked.

"Was what true?" asked Maria, trembling.

"Was it true that you and Wollaston Lee and Gladys Mann all went to
New York looking for your sister, and came out on the last train?"

"Yes, it is true," replied Maria, quite steadily.

"What ever made you?"

"I thought she might have gone to a cousin of Hers who used to live
on Forty-ninth Street, but we found the cousin had moved when we got
there."

"Gracious!" said Maud. "And you didn't come out till that last train?"

"No."

"I should think you would be tired to death, and you don't look any
too chipper." Maud turned and stared at Wollaston, who was standing
aloof. "I declare, he looks as if he had been up a week of Sundays,
too," said she. Then she called out to him, in her high-pitched
treble, which sounded odd coming from her soft circumference of
throat. Maud's voice ought, by good rig