"Well, we reached home again, and there wasn’t a sign of Mignon anywhere. With every moment I got more and more uneasy, for Mignon was turned six years old, and was well used to going about and seeing strange people. I knew she wasn’t a child to get nervous unduly, or be frightened of any one who offered to take care of her, only I was so afraid that the wrong sort of people might have got hold of her, and might have decoyed her away for the sake of her clothes or a reward. "Oh, dear, what a dreadful night it was! Your father went out and got a cab and went round to all the police-stations, inquiring everywhere for traces of her. And then he went and knocked up all the park-keepers, but none of them had noticed her either. "And Humphie and I sat up by the nursery fire; and about two in the morning, Hortense crept down and went on her knees to me, praying and imploring me to forgive her, and saying that if anything had happened to little missie, she would make away with herself." [Illustration: "Hortense crept down and went on her knees to me, praying and imploring me to forgive her."] "What’s that?" asked Madge suddenly. "Hanging herself," answered Pearl. "Judas hanged himself." "Judas went out and hanged himself," corrected Maud, who had a passion for accuracy of small details. "Yes, of course, but that doesn’t matter," said Pearl. "The hanging was the principal thing. He could have hanged himself without going out, but going out without hanging himself would not have been anything." "Go on, Mother," cried a chorus of voices. "What happened next?" "Well, nothing happened for a long time," Mrs. Ferrers replied. "We all stayed up; I think nobody thought of going to bed that night at all--I know Humphie and I never did--and at last the morning broke, and your father and Browne began to make arrangements for putting notices in all the papers, and when they had written them all, they went off in the grey dim light to try to get them put into that day’s papers. Oh! it was a most dreadful night, and a terrible morning. "I didn’t like to put it into words, but all night long I had thought of the Round Pond, and wondered if my Mignon was in there. I found out afterwards that your father had thought of it too, and had made all arrangements for having it dragged, though he wouldn’t speak of it to me, because he fancied I had not thought of it. "And over and over again Humphie kept saying, ’I’m sure my precious lamb knows perfectly well who she is and all about herself. I’m sure of it. Why, we taught her years ago, ma’am, in case it ever happened she got lost. "I’m Miss Mignon, and I belong to Booties," and "Captain Ferrers, the Scarlet Lancers." She knew it all, years since.’ "’Yes, but, Humphie, has any one taught her 304, Queen’s Gate, S.W.?’ I asked. "’No,’ said Humphie. ’I can’t say that we have.’