give a home for a time and a motherly care to the two
little ones committed to her charge by Amos. The husband was, of
course, absent from home during the working hours, so that his wife
could not call him to her help when she missed the little boy; indeed,
on the day of her loss her husband had gone with his master, the farmer,
to the neighbouring market-town, some six miles off, so that she could
have no assistance from him in the search for the missing child till
late in the evening. As far as Amos could gather from the little girl's
description, the man who had stolen away her brother was tall, had a
long beard, and very black eyes. He was not on horseback, and there was
no one else with him. But this was very meagre information at the best
on which to build for tracking the fugitives. So Amos called Mrs
Williams into the little parlour, and spread the matter out in prayer
before God, whose "eyes are in every place, beholding the evil and the
good." Then wishing the nurse good-bye, with a heart less burdened than
before, but still anxious, he remounted his pony, and turned him in the
direction of the neighbouring farm-yard.

Having ascertained at the farm-house that no one had seen a man with a
boy in his arms or walking by him pass that way, he proceeded down a
long and not much frequented grassy lane at a jog-trot, but with small
expectation of finding any clew that might guide him to the discovery of
the lost child. He had ridden on thus about half a mile, when he paused
at a place where another grassy lane crossed at right angles the one
down which he had been riding. It was a lonely spot, but yet was a
thoroughfare from which the roads diverged to one or two large villages,
and led in one direction ultimately to the market-town. Close to the
ditch opposite the road down which Amos had come was a white finger-
post, informing those who were capable of deciphering its bleared
inscriptions whither they were going or might go. Amos hesitated; he
had never been on this exact spot before, and he therefore rode close up
to the sign-post to read the names, which were illegible at a little
distance off. To his great surprise, and even dismay, he noticed,
dangling from one of the post's outstretched wooden arms, a silk
handkerchief of a rather marked pattern. Could it really be? Yes, he
could not doubt it; it belonged to little George: it was a present to
the child from himself only a few days before. Amos's