Aunt
Charlotte had said, but Dorothy was questioning the maid to learn when
she had last seen Nancy. Aunt Charlotte's words, which surely would have
frightened her, had passed unnoticed. It was late before any member of
the household could think of sleeping, and when at last Dorothy lay
dreaming of Nancy, her long lashes were wet with tears.

Mrs. Dainty had tried to comfort and cheer her by telling her that
_this_ time they knew with whom Nancy was staying, and that Sue, who had
once before helped them to find her, would, doubtless, bring her back.

Dorothy had listened patiently, but when Mrs. Dainty kissed her and said
"good night," Dorothy threw her arms about her neck.

"Oh, mamma, I know we have Nancy's note," she said, "and Sue _was_ good
to her once, but how do we know what her aunt will do? What if she means
to make her dance at a theatre, just as her Uncle Steve did?" And Mrs.
Dainty could find no words with which to comfort her, because her own
heart was filled with that very thought which made Dorothy so unhappy.

And when the bright sunlight streamed in through the windows of the
stone house it found every one wide awake and full of excitement, eager
to be doing something towards finding Nancy, but in doubt as to what to
do first.

It was Mrs. Dainty's calmness that stilled their excitement, her cool
head that directed their efforts, her firm will which chose to guide,
rather than command.

And while every effort was being made to find Nancy, and to learn if she
were safe, Nancy lay upon an old bed in the little house in the country
lane, and slept soundly, after having cried herself to sleep the night
before. She awoke with a start when a stray sunbeam came in through
the tiny window and touched her cheek.

For a moment she stared at the glint of light which danced upon the
wall, then a puzzled look came into her brown eyes, and she rubbed them
as if in that way she might better see, and understand her strange
surroundings.

Then suddenly she remembered all about it. Why she was in so shabby a
room, and why she was there at all. Ah, yes, Sue had brought her, and
she had thought that she should return that night.

Now the morning had come, and with it the hope that before night she
would be again in her own home, and with those who were dear to her.

She listened. There was not a sound of any one stirring, nor was there
any slight noises out-of-doors which told of busy people up and about at
ea