"Wasn't wid that Bud M'Ginnis, was he?" questioned Mrs. Trapes sharply.

"No, he wasn't with M'Ginnis," answered Mr. Ravenslee, in frowning
perplexity, "but that's about all I can tell you."

"Thank you," sighed the girl, "I must go and try again. I know I shall
find him--soon." But, though she tried to speak in a tone of cheerful
confidence, her shapely head drooped rather hopelessly.

"You mean you are going out on to the--to look for him again?"

"Why, of course," she answered, "I must find Arthur!"

"Don't, Hermy, don't--so pale an' tired as you are, don't go again!"
pleaded Mrs. Trapes, her usual sharpness transfigured into a deep and
yearning tenderness; even her voice seemed to lose something of its
harshness. "Don't worry, my sweet, the b'y'll find his way home right
enough, like he did last time."

"Like--last time!" cried Hermione, and shivering, she leaned against the
wall as if she were faint. "Ah, no, no!" she whispered, "not--like last
time!" and bowing her head she hid her face in her hands.

Close, close about that quivering form came two motherly arms, and Mrs.
Trapes fell to passionate invective and tender soothing, thus:

"There, there, my love--my pretty, don't remember that last time! Oh,
drat my fool's tongue for remindin' you, drat it, my dear, my honey! Ah,
don't go breakin' your angel's 'eart along of Arthur, my precious--and
drat him too! That b'y'll come back all right, he will--he will, I know