once," said mother. "What a good
thing poor grandfather isn't back yet!"

CHAPTER VIII.

FOUND

----"he was not there:
We searched the house, the grounds--in vain;
We searched the green in our despair,
And then we searched the house again."

It _was_ a good thing grandfather was out, for--and this was what mother
was thinking of--poor grandfather, though he looked such a fine, tall,
gray-haired old gentleman, was not really very strong or well. It was a
great deal for him that they had all come abroad this winter, and the
doctors had told mother and auntie that anything to startle or distress
him might make him very ill indeed. Poor grandfather! I can't tell you
what a kind, good man he was. He had stayed a great many years in India,
though he would have liked dreadfully to come home, because it was "his
duty" he said, and this had made him seem older than he really was, for
a hot country is very wearing out to people who are not born to it.
And, though he was so fond of his grandchildren, I think if he _had_ a
pet among them, it was little Herr Baby. The mere idea of his tiny
Raymond--Baby was named Raymond after grandfather--being lost, even for
an hour or two, would have troubled him dreadfully, and thinking of
this, auntie, too, repeated after mother,

"Yes, indeed, what a good thing grandfather isn't in. We _mustn't_ let
him know, May, till Baby's found."

They didn't stay to say anything more. Off they all set into the garden,
for, though Fritz said he had looked all over, they couldn't feel sure
that they might not find Baby in some corner, hiding, perhaps, for fun,
even. But when they had all been round and round the garden in every
direction--mother, and auntie, and Celia, and Denny, and Fritz, and
Mademoiselle Lucie, and Lisa, and Linley, and Peters, and Francois, and,
even at the end I believe, Monsieur Jean-Georges himself, and the rest
of the French servants--when they had all looked, and peeped, and
shouted, and whistled, and begged, and prayed Baby to come out if he was
hiding, and there was no answer, then they gave it up. It was impossible
that the little man could be in the garden.

Where could he be?

Fortunately there was nowhere in the garden where he could have hurt
himself--no pit or pond into which he could have fallen. And it was
surely impossible that any one could have come into the garden and
stolen him away, as Celia, with a pale face, whispered to au