That Stick

'No, they would not interfere unless I prosecuted, and that I certainly should not do unless it proved the only means of tracing my child. I came home intending to ask Ida if she gave any directions about him. It seems certain that he was not brought to Toronto.'

'Indeed! She made sure that he would be there!' exclaimed Mrs. Morton, much dismayed. 'Let me go and see. She is so much upset altogether that she declares that she cannot see you this evening.'

Mrs. Morton went, and presently brought word that Ida was horrified at hearing that little Michael was not with the Joneses. She had trusted Louisa to treat him kindly, and only dispose of him to some of those Canadian farmers, who seemed to have an unlimited appetite for adopted children, and the last hope was that this might have been the case, though opportunities could have been few on the way to Toronto.

Ida had cried over the tidings. It must have been worse than she had ever intended that the child should be treated; and the shock was great both to her and to her mother.

Mrs. Morton really seemed quite broken down, both by sorrow and fear for the boy, and by the shame, the dread of the story getting into the papers, and the sense that she could never go on living at Westhaven; and her brother-in-law quite overwhelmed her by saying that he should do all in his power to prevent publicity, and that he entirely exonerated her from all blame in the matter.

'Ah, Frank dear,' she said, 'you are so good, it makes me feel what a sinful woman I am! I don't mean that I ever gave in for a moment to that nonsense of poor Ida's which was her only bit of excuse. No one that had ever been a mother could, you know; but I won't say that I did not grumble at my boy losing his chances.'

'I don't wonder!'

'And-and I never would listen to you and Mary about poor Ida. I let her idle and dress, and read all those novels, and it is out of them she got that monstrous notion. You little know what I have gone through with that girl, Frank, so different from the other two. Oh! if I could only begin over again!'

'Perhaps,' said Frank, full of pity, 'this terrible shock may open her eyes, and by God's blessing be the beginning of better things.'

'Oh, Frank, you are a perfect angel ever to bear the sight of us again!' cried the poor woman, ever violent in her feelings and demonstrations. 'Hark! What's that?-I can't see any one.'

'Please, ma'am, it's Miss Rollstone, with a letter for his Lordship.'

CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE CLUE

'BEST OF ROSES,-

'I don't know where my uncle is, so please send him this. I got to

Toronto all right, and had not much trouble in finding out the

steady-going Jones, who is rather a swell, chief mate on board the

British Empress. He was a good deal taken aback by my story, and

said that his brother had come out with his wife, but no child. It

was quite plain that he was a good deal disappointed in the Rattler,

and not at all prepared for Mrs. Louisa, whom neither he nor his wife

admired at all, at all. He had got his brother a berth on a summer

steamer that had just been set up on Lake Winnipeg-being no doubt

glad to get rid of such an encumbrance as the wife, and he looked

very blue when he heard that I was quite certain that she had taken

the kid away with her, and been paid for it. There was nothing for

it but to go after them, and find out from them what they had done

with poor little Mite. He is a right good fellow, and would have

gone with me, but that he is bound to his boat, and a stunner she is;

but he gave me a letter to Sam, so I had to get on the Canadian

Pacific Railway, so that I should have been nonplussed but for your

loan. Splendid places it goes through, you never saw such trees, nor

such game.

'As good luck would have it, I was in the same car with an

Englishman-a gentleman, one could see with half an eye, and we

fraternised, so that I told him what I was come about. He was

awfully good-natured, and told me he lived a mile or two out of

Winnipeg, and had a share in the steam company, and if I found any

difficulty I was to come to him, Mr. Forman, at Northmoor. I stared

at the name, as you may guess! There was a fine horse and buggy

waiting for him at the station, and off he went. I put up at the

hotel-there's sure to be that whatever there is not-and went after

the Joneses next. I got at the woman first, she looked ill and

fagged, as if she didn't find life with Rattler very jolly. She

cried bucketsful, and said she didn't know anything, since she put

the poor little Mite to sleep after supper in a public-house at

Liverpool. She was dead tired, and when she woke he was gone, and

her husband swore at her, and never would tell her what he had done

with the boy, except that he had not hurt him. Then I interviewed

Sam Rattler himself. He cut up rough, as he said my Lord had done

him an ill turn, and he had the game in his hands now, and was not

going to let him know what was become of his child, without he came

down handsome enough to make up for what he had done him out of. So

then I had to go off to Mr. Forman. He has such a place, a house

such as any one might be delighted to have-pine trees behind, a

garden in front, no end of barns and stables, with houses and cows,

fine wheat fields spreading all round, such as would do your heart

good. That is what Mr. Forman and his brother-in-law, Captain Alder,

have made, and there's a sweet little lady as ever you saw, Alder's

sister. The Captain was greatly puzzled to hear it was Lord

Northmoor's son I was looking for. He is not up in the peerage like

your father, you see, and I had to make him understand. He thought

Lord N. must be either the old man, or Lady Adela's little boy. He

said some of his happiest days had been at Northmoor, and he asked

after Lady Adela, and if Miss Morton was married. He came with me,

and soon made Mr. Rattler change his note, by showing him that it

would be easy to give him the sack, even if he was not laid hold of

by the law on my information for stealing the child. They are both

magistrates and could do it. So at last the fellow growled out that

he wasn't going to be troubled with another man's brat, and just

before embarking, he had laid it down asleep at the door of Liverpool

Workhouse! So no doubt poor little Michael is there! I would have

telegraphed at once; but I don't know where my uncle is, or whether

he knows about it, but you can find out and send him this letter at

once. I have asked him to pay your advance out of my quarter; and as

to the rest of it, it is all owing to you that the poor little kid is

not to grow up a pauper.

'I am staying on at Northmoor-it sounds natural; they want another

hand for their harvesting, so I am working out my board, as is the

way here, at any rate till I hear from my uncle, and I shall ask him

to let me stay here for good as a farming-pupil. It would suit me

ever so much better than the militia, even if I could get into it,

which I suppose I haven't done. It is a splendid country, big enough

to stretch oneself in, and I shall never stand being cramped up in an

island after it; besides that I don't want to see Ida again in a

hurry, though there is some one I should like no end to see again.

There, I must not say any more, but send this on to my uncle. I wish

I could see his face. I did look to bring Mite back to him, but that

can't be, as I have not tin enough to carry me home. I hope your

loan has not got you into a scrape.