turn. The baby had a shawl drawn
over its bald head, and peered out from its shelter with eyes just
beginning to observe the sundry and manifold changes of its little
world.

"It is rather more than a fortnight ago since I bought a table here,"
Miss Saxon began. "It was a very old-fashioned table with brass handles
and claw feet. Do you remember it?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do," replied the woman, after a moment's consideration.

"Here is a lady who wishes to know where that table came from. She
fancies it belonged to some one in whom she takes an interest,"
continued Miss Saxon in her quiet voice. "We have come to know if you
can tell us anything about it?"

Elsie's heart throbbed fast in the pause that followed. The baby looked
at her and gave a faint chuckle, as if it triumphed in the thought that
even grown-up people cannot find out all the puzzles of life.

"It came from a house in Dashwood Street," the woman said at last. "They
had a regular turn-out of old furniture, and my husband bought a good
many things. I'll go and ask him the number of the house."

She disappeared into a gloomy region at the back of the shop, and was
lost to sight for a minute or two.

"He says 'twas 132," she said, emerging from the gloom, baby and all.

"We're very much obliged to you," returned Miss Saxon.

"Not at all, ma'am. Glad to have been of use to you."

Elsie came away gaily from the broker's door, in the belief that she was
going to walk straight to the goal. But Miss Saxon was less sanguine.
Moreover, she had no great faith in the manuscript, and seemed disposed
to think that it was written by some one who wanted to make a story.

"It might have been intended for a magazine," she suggested, "and the
writer broke off short. We have no proof at all that Meta was a real
person."

"I own I have no proof," Elsie admitted frankly. "But I have a feeling
that I must seek out Jamie."

"But perhaps Meta is living and taking care of him still, Miss Kilner.
People don't always die when they think their end is near. As a matter
of fact, the more they think they are going the longer they stay."

"I know she is dead--I feel it," rejoined Elsie, with unshaken
conviction. "I am guided by intuition. It seems like a blind leap into
the dark, but I must search for Jamie."

Miss Saxon looked kindly into the dark eyes which met hers with such an
earnest gaze.

"Something may come of it," she said after a pause. "Well, Miss Kilner,
I prom