oor little
thing--poor little thing."

It did not take Mrs. Williams an instant to reach Annie's side; and in
another moment she had lifted her in her strong arms and carried her into
the cottage, Peggy lifting Nan and following in the rear, while Tiger
walked by their sides.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

DARK DAYS.

A whole week had passed, and there were no tidings whatever of little Nan
or of Annie Forest. No one at Lavender House had heard a word about them;
the police came and went, detectives even arrived from London, but there
were no traces whatever of the missing children.

The midsummer holiday was now close at hand, but no one spoke of it or
thought of it. Mrs. Willis told the teachers that the prizes should be
distributed, but she said she could invite no guests and could allow of
no special festivities. Miss Danesbury and Miss Good repeated her words
to the schoolgirls, who answered without hesitation that they did not
wish for feasting and merriment; they would rather the day passed
unnoticed. In truth, the fact that their baby was gone, that their
favorite and prettiest and brightest schoolmate had also disappeared,
caused such gloom, such distress, such apprehension that even the most
thoughtless of those girls could scarcely have laughed or been merry.
School-hours were still kept after a fashion, but there was no life in
the lessons. In truth, it seemed as if the sun would never shine again at
Lavender House.

Hester was ill; not very ill--she had no fever, she had no cold; she had,
as the good doctor explained it, nothing at all wrong, except that her
nervous system had got a shock.

"When the little one is found, Miss Hetty will be quite well again," said
the good doctor; but the little one had not been found yet, and Hester
had completely broken down. She lay on her bed, saying little or nothing,
eating scarcely anything, sleeping not at all. All the girls were kind to
her and each one in the school took turns in trying to comfort her; but
no one could win a smile from Hester, and even Mrs. Willis failed utterly
to reach or touch her heart.

Mr. Everard came once to see her, but he had scarcely spoken many words
when Hester broke into an agony of weeping and begged him to go away. He
shook his head when he left her and said sadly to himself:

"That girl has got something on her mind; she is grieving for more than
the loss of her little sister."

The twentieth of June came at last, and the g