"Yes; but it ain't always he can do any thing. There was that little
gal, a year ago pretty nigh, belonged to a man by the name of
Legrange. She was lost, and they offered a reward of ten thousand
dollars finally; but she warn't never heard from. You see, there's
sich a many children all about: and come to change their clothes,
and crop their hair, it's hard to tell t'other from which," said the
policeman meditatively; and then, suddenly resuming his official
dignity, added, "You mustn't never get over that fence again,
though: mind that, young man."

"Thank you, sir," said Teddy, turning away to hide the guilty
confusion of his face; and, as he hurried home, he anxiously
revolved the idea of applying to the police for aid, should Cherry
remain absent after the next morning. But Teddy knew something of
the law, and had too often seen better hidden secrets than his own
ferreted out and brought to the light by its searching finger, to
wish to trust himself within its grasp; at any rate, just yet.

"If I find her, I'll give her up, and tell all, and never touch the
reward; but how can I go and say she's lost again?" thought Teddy,
with a sick heart. And when, running up the stairs, his quick eyes
caught sight of his mother's face, his own turned so ghastly white,
that she ran toward him, crying,--

"An' is it dead you've found her, Teddy?"

"Worse; for she's lost; and all that comes to her is on my
shoulders," said Teddy hoarsely, as he stood just within the door,
looking hungrily about the room, as if he hoped, in some forgotten
corner, to light upon his lost treasure.