man's eyes.

"Put that thing down," she cried, "and don't be a fool. Let me see;"
and she darted past the woman and ran up stairs. She found the window
of Andy's prison open and the print of his little fingers on the
snow-covered sill outside, where he had held on before dropping to the
ground, a distance of many feet. There was no doubt now in her mind as
to the truth of the woman's story. The child had made his escape.

"Have you been into all the neighbors' houses?" asked Pinky as she came
down hastily.

"Into some, but not all," she replied.

"How long is it since he got away?"

"More than two hours."

"And you've been sticking down here, instead of ransacking every hole
and corner in the neighborhood. I can hardly keep my hands off of you."

The woman was on the alert. Pinky saw this, and did not attempt to put
her threat into execution. After pouring out her wrath in a flood
of angry invectives, she went out and began a thorough search of the
neighborhood, going into every house for a distance of three or four
blocks in all directions. But she could neither find the child nor get
the smallest trace of him. He had dropped out of sight, so far as she
was concerned, as completely as if he had fallen into the sea.

CHAPTER XXVI.

_DAY_ after day Mr. Dinneford waited for the woman who was to restore
the child of Edith, but she did not come. Over a week elapsed, but she
neither called nor sent him a sign or a word. He dared not speak
about this to Edith. She was too weak in body and mind for any further
suspense or strain.

Drew Hall had been nearly thrown down again by the events of that
Christmas day. The hand of a little child was holding him fast to a
better life; but when that hand was torn suddenly away from his grasp,
he felt the pull of evil habits, the downward drift of old currents. His
steps grew weak, his knees trembled. But God did not mean that he should
be left alone. He had reached down to him through the hand of a little
child, had lifted him up and led him into a way of safety; and now that
this small hand, the soft, touch of which had gone to his heart and
stirred him with old memories, sad and sweet and holy, had dropped away
from him, and he seemed to be losing his hold of heaven, God sent
him, in Mr. Dinneford, an angel with a stronger hand. There were old
associations that held these men together. They had been early and
attached friends, and this meeting, after many years of