As far as we can tell, the Lyons must have expected her back quite early in the evening, for when nine o'clock struck from the church tower close by, the carpenter grew uneasy, and went round to Mrs. Canning to see if Betty was there. No; her mother had not seen her since the morning, but was sure she would be in directly, and Mr. Lyon would most likely find her at home when he got back. But at ten he paid the good woman another visit, saying he could not imagine what had kept the girl; and at last Mrs. Canning, 'frightened out of her wits' as she herself says, sent three of the children out into the fields to look for Elizabeth, and the apprentice went down to the Docks to inquire if she was still at her uncle's. It was now midnight, and the Colleys were so fast asleep that the apprentice had some difficulty in rousing them to listen to his errand. 'Betty here?' they asked. 'Why, we left her in Houndsditch hours ago.' But they do not seem to have felt any alarm till the following morning when the young man knocked again, and informed them that they could gain no news of the missing girl. Inquiries were made and advertisements were placed in the paper; all in vain. To be sure, a 'gentlewoman in an oil-shop' in Bishopsgate declared that she had heard a 'young voice scream out of a coach' on the night of January 1; but as she 'did not know whether it was a man's or a woman's voice,' her information was not of much use. However, vague though it was, Mrs. Canning caught at it eagerly and put it into the advertisement. As to what had become of her daughter, she guessed something different every day. Perhaps she had been kidnapped, or she might have been murdered, or have had an attack of illness. Some years before, part of the ceiling of a garret had fallen on Elizabeth's head and hurt her, so that if anything frightened her she was apt to lose her sense of what was going on for a while. Naturally when the girl was lost her mother remembered this and dreaded lest she should have fallen down in some strange place unconscious. Every idea that could come into a person's mind--every accident likely or unlikely that had ever befallen anybody--was, we may feel certain, discussed in the month of January 1753 by Mrs. Canning and her neighbours. She had almost given up hope, and was even in the act of praying to see her daughter's ghost, when Elizabeth at last came. But _what_ an Elizabeth! The apprentice, when he hastened to the door on hearing the latch lifted, did not recognise the girl, and thought it was a woman who had called to ask her way. Then the truth suddenly dawned on him and he cried out, 'Betty has come home'; but as she entered, nearly bent double and walking sideways holding her hands before her, her mother took her to be indeed the ghost she had prayed for, and, shrieking 'Feel her! Feel her!' sank down in a fit.