ut his one sad
burthen:

"Mamma, mamma, why did you die? why did you die?"

CHAPTER XVII.

THE LOST FOUND.

Egerton expelled--Harry lost--Settling to work--Two years after--A
triumphal entry--The halt--Pre-occupied--A stranger--Found at last.

There was a great stir in Wilton on Harry's disappearance. The single
policeman the village boasted was sent for and vigorously interrogated.

Had he seen any traces of a young gentleman answering to Harry's
description?

"No! he hadn't seen nothing!"

Was he on his beat that night? Had he passed the school buildings?

He had stood talking for half-an-hour in one spot of the village, and
then had gone to bed.

"He hadn't thought there was any call for him to go round the village."

No wonder "he hadn't seen nothing!"

All other inquiries met with pretty much the same answer. It was in
vain. Harry was quite beyond all discovery.

So Doctor Palmer wrote at last to H.M.S. "Fervid," telling
Chief-engineer Campbell, honestly and openly, the whole proceeding;
concluding his letter with some kind and tender words of sympathy for
him in his sorrow.

Egerton was promptly packed off to his guardian, a stern, sour-faced
London lawyer (his parents were both dead), with an explicit account of
his conduct, and his consequent expulsion.

In a very short time things went on much as usual at the school, to all
external appearances. The excitement had died the usual death.

It is not, however, to be wondered that both Doctor Palmer and Mr
Prichard felt very uneasy at the total failure of the attempts to
discover Harry's whereabouts.

Mrs Valentine's distress could know no bounds, and both she and Mrs
Bromley were full of indignation, woman-like, with everybody at the
school. Boys and masters alike came in for blame from them.

But it was all of no avail. Each day Harry was getting farther away
from Wilton; more lost than ever; settling down deeper and deeper into
that strange and motley mass of wanderers on the face of the earth,
whose individuality nobody recognises, or cares to recognise.

He had plenty to do. And work is the one grand thing that keeps us
from too near communion with any sorrow it may be our lot to bear. Yet
often and often, as they halted at different towns, Harry's heart would
grow very heavy, as he saw among the spectators, numerous boys of his
own age, well-dressed and cared-for, with happy faces full of
astonishment and wondering adm