' They were ushered through the prim hall
into the superintendent's office. Miss Farlow rose from her desk.
"You are in charge of this institution?" asked Miss Drayton.
"I am Miss Farlow, the superintendent."
"I am Miss Drayton from Washington City. This is my nephew, Patrick
Patterson. We are friends of Anne Lewis."
"You have news of her?" asked Miss Farlow, starting eagerly forward.
"News? We have come to see her--to take her home with us--to give her a
home," explained Miss Drayton.
Miss Farlow sank back on her chair, and buried her face in her hands.
The quiet, reserved woman was weeping bitterly. "If we only had her, if
we only had her!" she moaned. "Poor little motherless, fatherless one!
Oh, it was my fault. I failed in my duty. I tried to do right by her.
God knows I did."
"What is the matter? What do you mean?" Miss Drayton was frightened. Was
the child dead? injured? She dared not ask. "Anne--where is she?" she
faltered at last.
"I don't know." Miss Farlow was recovering her self-control and
struggling to speak steadily. "She started on a holiday trip with some
friends. On the way she disappeared. Absolutely disappeared. No one
knows where nor when.
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