"Nothing can be plainer, my child. Little Essie was left in charge of a nurse at the station, and when the foolish woman missed the baby, instead of making immediate inquiries, she spent her time fainting. Not until nearly eight o'clock that evening did the poor mother learn of her terrible loss, and then detectives were sent out at once. The boy at the fruit store, on being questioned, as was every one else in that vicinity, described the baby he saw in your arms, and told the officers your name. You had disappeared, and the only thing left was to offer a reward for information as to your whereabouts." "Then they didn't think I'd done anything crooked?" "If by that you mean 'wrong,' they didn't. It was the only clew they had to the child; but on the following day it was learned you had been seen with George, and then his name appeared in the advertisement. After that, some of the newsboys from around City Hall Square brought word that Dan Fernald was with you, and a reward was also offered for knowledge of his whereabouts. You see, Josey dear, if Mr. Raymond--that is the name of Essie's father--could find either of you three boys, he was reasonably certain of getting news regarding his baby." "Then I ran away from nothing, did I?" "Yes, Josey dear, you did what many older persons than you have done, and what God's Book tells us the wicked do,--fled when no man was pursuing." "Well, I _have_ been a chump!" "Do you mean that you've been foolish?" "I s'pose that's what you'd call it. I'm a reg'lar jay from Jayville, an' yesterday mornin' I let that bloomin' imitation detective scare me!" "Those wiser than you might have misconstrued that advertisement, Joseph; but this shall teach you that there is nothing to fear when your conscience is clear. Meet trouble half-way, and it dwindles into mere vexation. Now, dear, I want you to come into the house with me and meet Mr. and Mrs. Raymond. They know how kind you have been to Essie, and wish to thank you." "Well, they can't thank me for takin' care of the princess, an' I only wish she'd never had a father and a mother, for then I could have kept her all the time." "Won't you come to please me, dear?" and aunt Dorcas laid her hand on the boy's arm affectionately. "When you put it that way, I'll have to go," and Joe rose slowly to his feet. "Of course you want to see Essie before she leaves?" "Are they goin' to take her right away?" "Certainly, Joseph. Do you fancy that poor mother could go away without her?" Joe made no reply, and, linking her arm in his, aunt Dorcas led him in through the shed, but before they had reached the cottage Plums came towards them at an unusually rapid rate of speed, crying, excitedly: "The dudes have gone, aunt Dorcas. They've gone, and that very same swell carriage is comin' here to-morrow mornin' to take me an' Joe an' you into the city to see the princess." "Gone?" aunt Dorcas exclaimed, in surprise.