Hanshaw. "Come, Lucy: come,
Mabel; don't make mountains out of molehills. The little man is safe
enough. We shall find him presently, or he will come home by himself.
Come and have some food, Lucy."
Miss Haldean shook her head. "I can't, Mrs. Hanshaw--really I can't,"
she said; and, seeing that she was in a state of utter exhaustion, I
poured out a glass of wine and made her drink it.
Mrs. Haldean darted from the room, and returned immediately, putting on
her hat. "You have got to come with me and show me whore you lost him,"
she said.
"She can't do that, you know," I said rather brusquely. "She will have
to lie down for the present. But I know the place, and will cycle up
with you."
"Very well," replied Mrs. Haldean, "that will do. What time was it," she
asked, turning to her niece, "when you lost the child? and which way--"
She paused abruptly, and I looked at her in surprise. She had suddenly
turned ashen and ghastly; her face had set like a mask of stone, with
parted lips and staring eyes that were fixed in horror on her niece.
There was a deathly silence for a few seconds. Then, in a terrible
voice, she demanded: "What is that on your dress, Lucy?" And, after a
pause, her voice rose into a shriek.
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