University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.
A SCOLDING SUPPRESSED.

“Was there no back window to get out of!” asked
Susan, after hearing Tim's explanation of the cause of his
delay.

“I didn't look; I never thought of that.”

“But you should have thought of it, Tim!”

“I was so frightened I couldn't think!”

“And poor Ned! I wonder what he has been thinking
about all this time, when all alone!”

“We'll soon see. Here we are. I'll buy him a watch
out of my wages, if he has been a good boy.”

“Why, the door is open!” said Susan, stepping in, followed
by Tim.

The lamp upon the table threw a sickly ray over the
scene. Susan and Tim, for a moment stricken dumb at the
spectacle, stood in the centre of the room, regarding the
contents of the box scattered over the floor.

“Ned has been a bad boy to-night!” said Susan. “I
never knew him to do such a thing before!”

“Don't scold him,” said Tim. “He is ashamed of it
now, and has hid himself. He had a right to be angry,
because he was left all alone.”

“I must scold him for this,” she continued, taking up the
purse and jewelry, (Bainton had taken back his own purse
upon discovering the money in the box,) and locking the
door. “Why, I might have been robbed and ruined! He
has even taken out the letters, and is no doubt reading
them by himself up stairs. And the door has been open
all the time! I will scold him severely, Tim.”

“No. Don't do it sharp enough to hurt his feelings.”

“I will, though; or it will do him no good. Upon my
word he has broken the top off the box! Did you ever
know a boy to be guilty of such an act? and after all I
have done for him, too!”

“I don't believe Ned done that!” said Tim, standing
with his arms akimbo, and shaking his head while scrutinizing

the wreck of the black chest. “I don't think he
was strong enough, or wicked enough to do any such
thing!”

“Who else could have done it? Not a robber, or he
would have taken the money and the jewels. Come down
to me, Ned Lorn!” she continued, in a loud voice, approaching
the door, at the foot of the stairs.

At that moment, Bob, the large black tom-cat, sprang
down from the summit of the cupboard, where he had taken
refuge when relinquished by Ned. His hair still stood
erect upon his back, and his tail resembled a mourning
plume.

“Bob, why are you not up there with Ned?” asked
Tim. The cat responded with a most piteous cry. “Zux!
what's the matter with the he-cat? He looks like the
devil was in him! I hope he hasn't swallowed Ned.”

“Give me the lamp,” said Susan, “and let me fetch
Ned down. No wonder he's ashamed to show his face!”

“No! no! let me go!” said Tim, holding the lamp high
over his head, and gently pushing Susan aside. “I'm
afraid you'll be too hard on the little fellow. It's me,
Ned!” continued Tim, ascending the narrow stairway.
“Just say you're sorry for it, and I won't let her scold
you.”

Tim entered the chamber with a quizzical smile upon his
broad lip. “You're playing at bo-peep, are you?” he
asked, when upon looking around he failed to discover Ned.
“I know where you are. You're under the bed. Come
out.” No reply being made, Tim stooped down and looked
under. He was not there, of course. “Oh, you're in the
attic, are you? I'll have you!” he continued, going up
the ladder. But no Ned was there. Tim's smile was gone.
He returned again to the chamber immediately below.
He stood in the centre of the room, and silently surveyed
every object in it. The bed had not been disturbed, and
the boy could not be concealed there. He examined first
one closet and then the other, to no purpose. He even
stooped down and looked under the bureau, where the
space was hardly sufficient to admit the cat. He then
stood up, pale and trembling, a picture of dismay.

“Why don't you bring him down,” asked Susan, below,

while examining the fractured chest, and trying by the
light of the fire, to fit the pieces together again. Tim
made no reply. He descended slowly, the lamp quivering
in his hand.

“Where is he?” asked Susan. “Why, what's the matter
with you?” she continued, dropping the box and
hurriedly approaching Tim, whose ghastly features alarmed
her. What's the matter, Tim?” she repeated; “are you
sick?”

“N—n—no, Susan!” said he, putting the lamp down
on the table. “Don't scream! Don't faint! Bear the
shock like a man. Be composed and calm like me! Misfortunes
will come—”

“Misfortunes? Tim! What is it? Is it Ned!” she
exclaimed, and then panted violently.

“Yes—but don't get scared—Oh, Lord!—Be quiet—be
a man, like me!”

“Murdered? Oh, Tim! Is he dead? Oh! Oh!”

“No—no—no! I didn't say it! I didn't say any such
horrible thing! Nor I won't say any such thing! I say
I don't know if he's been hurt a bit.”

“But what's the matter with him? Tell me quick, Tim,
or you'll break my heart! Give me the lamp! I'll go see
for myself—”

“No—you needn't do it; he's gone!”

“Gone? gone, Tim! Don't tell me so! Ned gone?
Then some one has torn him away by force. The letters!
they're gone, too! Ned and his father's letters! I see it
all, Tim. I know who did it! Run, Tim! Fly—fly for
your life. Track them up in the snow. Don't stop—don't
eat—don't sleep—till you bring him back. Good Tim—
do this, and I'll bless you! A foster sister's blessing shall
rest upon you forever!”

While she was uttering these sentences Tim was running
in every direction about the room, as if preparing his limbs
for a race.

“Where shall I go first?” he cried, at last, dashing to
the door with the poker brandished in his hand.

“I'll go with you to the watchman,” said Susan, “and
then we'll see which course you must take.”

Locking the door after them, they set out in the snow

in quest of the watchman, Susan uttering lamentations all
the way, and Tim striving to comfort her.

They soon found the watchman, who knew both Susan
and Ned. It so happened this time that he could give
some intelligence of the boy. He had seen him in company
with Mallex, whom he did not know—but supposed
it was all right—enter a cab and drive towards Broad
street.

“Here's the track, almost filled up with snow!” said
Tim.

“Yes; that's the place where the cab stood. But
what's to pay, now? What 're you both in such a pickle
about?”

“I'll foller it, Susan!” said Tim, with the poker lifted
over his head, “to the other end of the earth, but I'll
bring him back. Don't be dashed down. Go to sleep,
and dream you've got him back. And when you wake up,
may be he'll be there. But if he shouldn't be,” continued
Tim, after a slight hesitation, and lowering the
poker despondingly, “you must go and tell Mrs. Dimple
what I'm away for, as I don't mean ever to come back till
I bring Ned!”

Saying this he darted away; and Susan, after pouring
out her griefs into the ear of the sympathizing watchman,
returned disconsolately to her lonely dwelling.