The library, the bath-room, the chambers, the nursery again, the servants' chambers, the kitchen, laundry, pantries, the very cellar! No, no, no! 'Toinette was in none of them. 'Toinette was not in any nook of the whole wide house, that, without her, seemed so empty and desolate. Standing in one of the upper entries, mute and bewildered, Susan heard a latch-key turn in the front-door lock, and presently Mr. Legrange's pleasant voice speaking in the hall. A sudden hope rushed into Susan's heart. The child might possibly have gone to meet her father, and was now returned with him. She rushed down stairs as fast as her feet could carry her; but in the hall stood only Mr. Legrange, talking to James, who had some message to deliver to him. As Susan flew down the stairs, the master turned and looked at her in some surprise. "Be careful, Susan: you nearly fell then. Is any thing the matter?" "Miss 'Toinette, sir: I can't find her, high nor low!" gasped Susan. "Can't find her! Good heavens! you don't mean to say she's lost!" exclaimed the father, turning, and staring at the nurse in dismay. "Oh! I don't know, sir, I'm sure; but I can't find her," cried Susan, wildly bursting into tears. "Where is her mother? Where is Mrs. Legrange, James?" "I don't know, sir, I'm sure," said the footman blankly. "She's in her own room, sir; and I'm afraid to go to tell her, she'll feel that bad. And indeed it wasn't any fault of mine: I only went"-- "Hush!" exclaimed Mr. Legrange, who had heard his wife close her chamber-door and begin to descend the stairs, and did not wish her to be frightened. "Wait here a moment, Susan," added he, and, running up stairs, entered the drawing-room just after his wife, who stood before the fire, looking so pretty and so gay in her blue silk-dress, with a ribbon of the same shade twisted among her golden curls, that her husband shrunk back, dreading to ask the question that must so shock and startle her. But Mrs. Legrange had caught sight of him, and, running to the door, opened it suddenly, crying,-- "Come in, you silly boy! Are you playing bo-beep? I don't do such things since my daughter is six years old, I would have you to understand." Mr. Legrange, forcing a laugh and a careless tone, came forward as she spoke, and, stooping to kiss her, asked,-- "And where is your daughter, my love?" "'Toinette? Oh! I suppose she is with Susan," began Mrs. Legrange carelessly; and then, as something in her husband's voice or manner attracted her attention, she drew back, and hurriedly looked into his face, crying,-- "O Paul! what is it? What has happened? Is 'Toinette hurt? Where is she?" "Be quiet, darling; don't be alarmed. Wait till we know more.--Susan, come up here," called Mr. Legrange; and Susan, with her face buried in her apron, and sobbing as if her heart would break, crept timidly up the stairs and into the room. At sight of her, Mrs. Legrange turned pale, and clung to her husband for support.