“But if Lenny is not found to-day, and grandpa gets no letter to-morrow, he will feel very anxious at not hearing from us.” “I know it. I must think of some plan by which I can write to him without alarming him, and bring him home here, before telling him of our loss. Here we might break the news to him gently; and, if it should overcome him, here, we can look after him. I will think of some such plan and act upon it, to-day,” said Dick, anxiously and reflectively. While the husband and wife took counsel together, the door opened, and Drusilla, dressed as for a drive, came in. “Good morning, my dear! Did you sleep last night?” anxiously inquired Anna. “A little.” “But you are not going out until you have breakfasted, my dear Drusilla?” said Dick. “I have been out for the last three hours, and have just returned,” she answered. “Good Heaven, Drusilla, you will destroy your life, and all to no purpose! The detectives are all sufficient for this business. You cannot help them,” urged Anna. “I know it; but I cannot rest,” replied Drusilla. “You have been to the same neighborhood? You have seen the officers this morning?” inquired Dick. “Yes.” “Any news?” “None; but the men give me great hopes, and I must trust in God.” “Now, Drusilla, don’t go up-stairs,” said Anna. “Take off your bonnet and shawl here, for here is the waiter, with our breakfast.” Drusilla complied with this advice. And they were about to sit down to the table, when there was heard a hurried step upon the stairs, and the door was thrown open, and old General Lyon, dusty, travel-stained, pale and excited, burst into the room. “IS THE CHILD FOUND?” he cried to the astonished circle. “No; but we have a clue to him,” answered Dick, as soon as he could recover his self-possession and his breath. The old man sank into a chair, covered his face with his hands, and shook as with an ague fit. Anna hastily poured out a cup of coffee and brought it to him. “Drink this, dear grandpa, and you will feel better,” she said. The old man raised his head and looked at her. “How do you do, my dear? I really forgot to speak to you,” he said. “Never mind that, dear sir. I am very well. Drink this. It will do you good,” she urged. “You say you have a clue to him?” he inquired, as he mechanically took the cup from her hand. “Yes, grandpa.” “Why is not the clue followed up? Why has it not led you to him?” “Indeed, it is being very diligently followed up. We are in hourly expectation of recovering our little Lenny. But, dear sir, please to drink your coffee. You are very faint, and need it very much.” “Where is the poor young mother? Where is Drusa?” he continued. Drusilla came and knelt down by his side, and took his disengaged hand, and looked up in his troubled face and said: