s Deed," volunteered Sandy, "I'll go up to
church with yer, an' then come back an' fetch Lily and Gil."

"That's a good idea," answered Edith, "bring her right over to the
church, and I'll be waiting for you there."

"I guess I'll go up to my house an' look. Mebbe Lily is playin' with
Zorah, an' if she is, I'll come right back an' tell yer," put in Dink.

Edith, Delia and the three boys departed, leaving the Colonel and the
Jedge alone, smoking their pipes and discussing the sensational events
of the week, in which Dennis Foley was the central figure.

The conversation was stopped by the appearance of Delia and Gilbert,
who declared that not one of the neighbors had seen Lillian that
afternoon.

"It seems almost incredible that she could be lost," said the father,
"she must be somewhere about here. Perhaps she went to the church, and
fell asleep in one of the pews."

The searching party set out once more, this time accompanied by the
Colonel himself, and by the Jedge. At the church they heard from Sandy
and Dink that no trace of the child had been found, so the father
requested the minister to inquire of the congregation if the missing
one had been seen anywhere. There was no response from those present,
and the family and friends began to show grave concern.

Another effort at finding her was immediately made. The police sergeant
was notified, and he sent out a general alarm.

All night long, and all the next day the hunt was continued. Wells were
explored, basements, cellars and out-of-the-way places were ransacked,
lumber yards and coal yards were gone through most carefully. In fact,
not a foot of the town was left unsearched, but all to no avail, and
the once happy home of the Franklins was steeped in sorrow and despair.

The morning after Lillian's disappearance, Mrs. Foley inquired of the
boys in the neighborhood if they had seen anything of her son Tom, who,
she declared, had been gone since the previous morning.

From Sandy she learned that Tom had taken dinner at Gilbert's the day
before, but that when the party had started for the river he had
dropped out, claiming he was too down-hearted to join in the pleasure.

"That's the way he acted at home," said the widow, "and it seemed to me
it was almost unnacheral for him to talk against his father, as he did.
However, I'm not bothered about him, for he comes and goes just as he
pleases, and when he gets good and ready he'll turn up, like a bad
penny.