The child’s nurse was in the habit of driving him in a baby carriage to the Queen’s Park for an airing, and one afternoon the mother lay in wait for the appearance of the infantile equipage. She was afraid to approach the servant with a bribe, as, in the event of her refusal, the Wilkies would be placed on their guard, and would set a strict watch over all the child’s movements. She accordingly sat down at a distance, closely veiled, and waited till an opportunity presented itself. She did not have long to wait. The nurse on entering the park fell in with a tribe of professional acquaintances, one of whom, drawing a love-letter which she had received from her pocket, commenced to read it for the edification of her companions. Not content with listening to the gushing effusion, the auditors crowded around the proud recipient of the epistle, reading with eager eyes such portions as they could see over the shoulder of their friend. While the representative of the dowager was busily engaged in scanning the amorous lines penned by the lovesick swain (the child left to her care being at some distance in his carriage, sleeping under the shade of some trees), Mrs. Wilkie cautiously approached, and, lifting the unconscious child with the tenderness peculiar to mothers, walked quietly and swiftly away towards the gate, when, coolly hailing a passing cab, she drove to her mother’s house, proudly depositing her baby in a richly adorned cradle which had been purposely prepared for his reception. It was a long time before the nurse missed the boy; in fact, not till she prepared to start for home did she give him a thought, except to congratulate herself that he slept so long and gave her so little trouble. When she at length turned towards the place where she had left the carriage and learned the true state of affairs her face grew deadly-pale, and, beckoning her companions towards her, she pointed to the carriage and uttered several piercing shrieks. Many were the suggestions as to what had become of the boy. Some thought he might have got out of the carriage alone and fallen into the pond, but, as he could not yet walk, this was highly improbable, another suggested that he had been stolen by gypsies, but could not say that she had ever heard of gypsies in connection with the Queen’s Park. Many other theories, some wild, a few reasonable, were advanced, but yet no clue to the whereabouts of the child could be discovered, nor could any light be thrown upon the mystery. The poor nurse was in a terrible state of mind. She had in her fancy a picture of the baby’s grandmother threatening to tear her limb from limb, while the frantic father went for the police; but return she must, and so, with a different step from that with which she entered the park, she set out for home, arriving there just as the bell rang for dinner.