“God being my helper, yes!” was the firm reply. “He has taken my feet out of the miry clay and set them on firm ground, and I have promised him that they shall not go down into the pit again. But Andy! I must look for him.” And he was turning away. “I saw Andy a little while ago,” now spoke up a woman who had come in from the street and heard the last remark. “Where?” asked Mr. Hall. “A girl had him, and she was going up Briar street on the run, fairly dragging Andy after her. She looked like Pinky Swett, and I do believe it was her. She's been in prison, you know but I guess her time's up.” Mr. Hall stopped to hear no more, but ran down stairs and up the street, going in the direction said to have been taken by the woman. Edith sat down, white and faint. “Pinky Swett!” exclaimed Mrs. Paulding. “Why, that's the girl who had the child you were looking after a long time ago, Mr. Dinneford.” “Yes; I remember the name, and no doubt this is the very child she had in her possession at that time. Are you sure she has been in prison for the last two years?” and Mr. Dinneford turned to the woman who had mentioned her name. “Oh yes, Sir; I remember all about it,” answered the woman. “She stole a man's pocket-book, and got two years for it.” “You know her?” “Oh yes, indeed! And she's a bad one, I can tell you. She had somebody's baby round in Grubb's court, and it was 'most starved to death. I heard it said it belonged to some of the big people up town, and that she was getting hush-money for it, but I don't know as it was true. People will talk.” “Do you know what became of that baby?” asked Edith, with ill-repressed excitement. Her face was still very pale, and her forehead contracted as by pain. “No, ma'am. The police came round asking questions, and the baby wasn't seen in Grubb's court after that.” “You think it was Pinky Swett whom you saw just now?” “I'm dead sure of it, sir,” turning to Mr. Dinneford, who had asked the question. “And you are certain it was the little boy named Andy that she had with her?” “I'm as sure as death, sir.” “Did he look frightened?” “Oh dear, yes, sir--scared as could be. He pulled back all his might, but she whisked him along as if he'd been only a chicken. I saw them go round the corner of Clayton street like the wind.” Mr. Paulding now joined them, and became advised of what had happened. He looked very grave. “We shall find the little boy,” he said. “He cannot be concealed by this wretched woman as the baby was; he is too old for that. The police will ferret him out. But I am greatly concerned for Mr. Hall. That child is the bond which holds him at safe anchorage. Break this bond, and he may drift to sea again. I must go after him.” And the missionary hurried away.