“Ain’t they got no fire and no light? How mortal dull for the little chap!” she said to herself as she noticed that the house was in darkness. But the next moment it occurred to her that Mary Welsh might have taken the boy to have tea with her own people. Such a proceeding would be very wrong on the part of Mary, but, nevertheless, she might have committed the crime. “Where are you, little chap?” called out Mrs. Ives as she lifted the latch. There was not a sound or a movement—the place was empty. Mrs. Ives knew where the matches were kept. She found the box, struck a match and lit a candle. The fire was out, the place was in confusion. A telegram lay on the table. “From Clary, but I ain’t a-going to mind her,” said Mrs. Ives. She went into the little bedroom; both the beds were in order, but there was not a sight of the child anywhere. “Dear, dear, and I’m fagged out. Yes, I’m beginning to feel the journey now,” she said to herself; “but there’s no help for it. I must go off to Mary’s. Now what does this mean?” There was a sound of footsteps running quickly. The next moment the house door was flung open and Mary rushed into the room. The moment she saw Mrs. Ives she fell on her knees. “It weren’t my fault, and don’t you go a-blaming me,” she called out. “What do you mean?” said Mrs. Ives. “Get up and speak plain.” “I had nothing to do with it. I just left him for five minutes, and where he’s gone off to Heaven only knows.” “Where—who’s gone—what are you talking about?” “The child, little Piers, he slipped off yesterday in the darkness. I was with him and had just given him his supper, and I said I’d come back in a few minutes, and when I did there wasn’t a sight of him. Mother and me and all the village have been looking for him, and we ain’t seen him, none of us.” “You get out of my house this minute,” said Mrs. Ives. “A nice girl you are to have the care of a little gentleman.” The girl disappeared. There was something awful at that moment in the little woman’s flashing eyes. She walked to the door, locked it, then she lit her lamp and sat down to think. The boy was gone—but where? What could be the matter? Had any misfortune befallen him? Amid all her wild dreams the possibility that the boy might himself try to get back to his old home had never once occurred to her, but now it did. She nodded her head several times. “Deary me! there seems likely to be no rest for me this blessed night,” she said. “I must try to take the next train to Haversham. I wonder if there’s one to-night; most likely not, but anyhow, back I must go to Falmouth to find out.” She did not wait even to get herself a cup of tea. When she reached the town she was greeted with the information that by no possible means could she get across country to Haversham that night. There would be a train at eight o’clock on the following morning. She must wait until then.