he latter hour Mr. Fern was in a state of excitement. The entire
house was in an uproar. The servants were catechised, one by one, to see
if perchance any of them could guess the young lady's destination. Word
was sent by telephone to various places in the city, asking information,
but none was received. She had left the house, ostensibly to go to New
York, and nothing could be learned of her from that moment.

As Mr. Roseleaf was not expected until some time later, Mr. Fern went at
last to the city and sought the young man at his rooms. He found him in
the company of Lawrence Gouger, dressed for the ceremony, and impatient
for the arrival of the hour when he should start for his bride's abode.
It may be conceived that the news Mr. Fern brought was not the
pleasantest for him.

"You--you have not seen Daisy?" came the stammering question, as the
father paused on the threshold of Roseleaf's room.

"To-day? Why, certainly not!" was the stupefied answer. "I was just
about to start for your house."

Mr. Fern sank upon a sofa just inside the door.

"Something--has--happened!" he groaned. "Ah, my boy, something has
happened to my child!"

Roseleaf looked at Mr. Gouger, who in turn looked at Mr. Fern.

"She--went away--this morning--on an errand," enunciated the father,
slowly, "saying--she would return--at noon. And--that is the last
we--have seen--of her. Oh, it seems as if I should go mad!"

It seemed as if Shirley Roseleaf would go mad, too. He looked like one
bereft of sense, as he stood there without uttering a word.

"Perhaps she has returned since you left home," suggested Mr. Gouger, on
the spur of the instant. "Don't lose heart yet. Let me send to a
telephone office and have them inquire. You have a 'phone in your house,
have you not, Mr. Fern?"

The father bowed in reply. He was too crushed to say anything
unnecessary. Touching a button, Mr. Gouger soon had a messenger
dispatched for the information desired, and in the meantime he tried, by
suggesting possibilities, to soothe the two men.

"You shouldn't get so excited," he protested. "There are a hundred
slight accidents that might be responsible for Miss Daisy's delay.
Perhaps she has met with an insignificant accident, and the word she
has sent to her father has gone astray--as happens very often in these
days. That would account for everything. Or she may have taken the wrong
train--an express--that did not stop this side of Bridgeport, and
hesitate