We left Amy and Drake with their pets at the mother’s grave. To force Amy from the spot that contained her mother, was calculated to deprive her of her reason. Thus, Drake remained a silent listener to her grief. She refused to return to the house, or be comforted, and cried herself to sleep on her mother’s grave with the cat in her arms and Rolla by her side. Drake sympathized with her. He said to himself: Would I have loved my mother so intently, had I been permitted to live with and love her? But I have no recollections of ever seeing her. When I was a babe I was stolen from her. If she loved her babe as Amy loved her mother, how terrible must have been her feelings when she learned that I had been stolen. Undoubtedly she thinks that I am dead. I had a father—perhaps brothers and sisters. I wonder if they would be glad to see me! I know my mother would. They tell me a mother’s love for her child never dies. My father sailed a ship then—perhaps he does now. If I should go where these ships sail, I might find him. If he made that figure on my breast, he would know me. Thus Drake reasoned over the matter, and came to the conclusion to go in search of his parents. Yes, he said to himself, in searching for them, I may find Amy’s friends. Presently a shadow passed him, and looking up, saw Cahoonshee approaching. Sleeping, he exclaimed, and as unconscious as the mother that sleeps beneath her. Perhaps she would be better off if she was as cold and lifeless as her mother. But such is not nature’s decree. She is saved for some purpose, for what, we know not. None of us can fathom the ways of the Great Spirit. We have buried the mother. Now let us take care of the child. Take her in your arms, Drake, and take her to the cabin. Drake took her up as tenderly as a mother would her babe and carried her to the house. Rolla and the cat followed, mute and silent. Amy was so overcome by her grief that she did not awake, and Drake laid her and her cat Walt on the bed. Poor girl, said Betsy, she can’t give her mother up. But she must have something to eat. She has not eaten anything since her mother died. Don’t wake her up, said Cahoonshee, let her have her cry and sleep out, and in the morning she will be more reconciled. That night the parties talked over what they would do with Amy, and came to the conclusion to keep her in the Quick family until they could hear from her friends. That when they went on their farm at Milford, they would take Amy with them, that there she would have some opportunity to attend school, and mingle in society with those of her own sex. When the family arose in the morning, Amy was up and gone. Instinct led Drake to her mother’s grave, where he found Amy and Rolla. Amy was sad, but composed, and was engaged in decorating the grave with flowers gathered from the mountain side. Good morning, Amy, I see you still mourn the loss of your mother.