for what you
have done for me. I shall always consider you my first and best friend
on earth. But you are going off, over the ocean; and I shall not see you
again."

"I shall return soon."

"When shall you go?"

"I shall not go till I am sure you are safe and well provided for. If,
as I expect, your uncle takes you to his home, I shall start day after
to-morrow."

"So soon?"

"Yes; I cannot needlessly waste a single day. My poor mother, for aught
I know, is still in sorrow and suffering."

"How glad she will be to see you, if you find her!"

"I shall find her; I shall not give up the search until I do find her,
if it takes me all the rest of my lifetime. But I expect to be
successful without much trouble."

We were silent then for half an hour, I judged, in which I was thinking
of the great mission that was before me; and I have no doubt Kate was
anticipating the scene that awaited her at the house of her uncle. The
carriage still rattled along, and it was beginning to be dark, for we
had been riding nearly an hour. I thought it was about time for us to
reach Madison Place. We must have gone at least six miles, and I came
deliberately to the conclusion that New York was a bigger city than I
had ever supposed.

"Haven't you got almost to Madison Place?" I shouted to the driver, when
my patience began to be sorely tried.

"It's a good piece yet," replied the driver, in the same surly tones.

"I think we must be almost up to Albany," I said to Kate, as I glanced
out at the window.

"Not quite so far as that," laughed Kate.

"This don't look like a very aristocratic part of the city," I added.
"The houses are all of wood, and poor ones at that."

"You must be patient, Ernest Thornton. We must soon reach my uncle's
house."

"Your uncle's, or Albany, I should say."

We were silent again. It did not seem to me possible that Madison Place
could be so far off. While I was fretting about the distance, I heard a
whistle like that with which one calls his dog, three times repeated. I
should not have noticed it, if the carriage had not stopped in the
middle of the street immediately after I heard it. The halt was but for
an instant--long enough to permit a man to get on the box with the
driver.

"How much farther is it to Madison Place?" I demanded again.

"Only a little piece," answered the surly driver; but he seemed to be
more pliable now.

I looked out at the window again. The houses were meaner and m