Tottie, who was greatly impressed with the anxious determination of her mother, and therefore with the heinous nature of her father's intended sin, gave her entire mind to this subject, and, after talking it over, and looking at it in all lights, came to the conclusion that she could not see her way out of the difficulty at all. While the two sat gazing on the ground with dejected countenances, a gleam of light seemed to shoot from Tottie's eyes. "Oh! I've got it!" she cried, looking brightly up. "Peter!" "What! the boy you met at Rosebud Cottage?" asked Mrs Bones. "Yes. He's _such_ a nice boy, and you've no idea, mother, what a inventor he is. He could invent anythink, I do believe--if he tried, and I'm sure he'll think of some way to help us." Mrs Bones was not nearly so hopeful as her daughter in regard to Peter, but as she could think of nothing herself, it was agreed that Tottie should go at once to the Post-Office and inquire after Peter. She did so, and returned crestfallen with the news that Peter was away on a holiday until the following Monday. "Why, that's the 15th," said Mrs Bones anxiously. "You must see him that day, Tottie dear, though I fear it will be too late. How did you find him out? There must be many Peters among the telegraph-boys." "To be sure there are, but there are not many Peters who have helped to save a little girl from a fire, you know," said Tottie, with a knowing look. "They knew who I wanted at once, and his other name is such a funny one; it is Pax--" "What?" exclaimed Mrs Bones, with a sudden look of surprise. "Pax, mother; Peter Pax." Whatever Mrs Bones might have replied to this was checked by the entrance of her husband. She cautioned Tottie, in earnest, hurried tones, to say nothing about Rosebud Cottage unless asked, and especially to make no mention whatever of the name of Pax. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. BUSINESS INTERFERED WITH IN A REMARKABLE MANNER. The modest estimate which Mrs Bones had formed of her penmanship turned out to be erroneous, and her opinion that there was not a man in the Post-Office able to read it was ill-founded. She was evidently ignorant of the powers and intelligence of the Blind Division. To make this more plain we will follow the letter. You and I, reader, will post ourselves, as it were, and pass through the General Post-Office unstamped. At a few minutes to six p.m. the mouth is wide enough to admit us bodily. Mr Bones has just put in his epistle and walked away with the air of a man who feels that he has committed himself, and is "in for it." He might have posted it at an office or a pillar nearer home, but he has an idea, founded no doubt on experience, that people, especially policemen, are apt to watch his movements and prefers a longish walk to the General.