Down the old creaking stairs passed Job, keeping close to the wall. And, as Esther Forsyth had done, he came upon a small bundle, in the corner of the landing. But no movement answered his exclamation—
"Hallo, who is it? A child, I do believe. Poor little 'un! Asleep!"
Job gave her a slight push, and she fell helplessly upon the ground, the thin arms trailing by her side. Job bent down and felt her.
"Why, she be cold as ice—poor little 'un,—nothing left of her but skin and bone. Who'll she belong to, I wonder?" Job raised a shout—"Ho! Hallo! Here's a child ill, or somethin' wrong with her."
Several faces appeared through several opening doors at this appeal, and two or three women came forward—Esther Forsyth among them, having been in the act of coming up-stairs at that moment. The little figure was lifted from the dark corner where it lay, and the moment it was possible to obtain a view of the face, Esther exclaimed—
"'Tis little Ailie herself."
"Sure, so it be," echoed one or two others. "Wherever can she ha' been all this while?"
"What, poor Carter's little girl, as I was asked about yesterday, and nobody knowed where she was gone?" inquired old Job, with interest.
"Yes, 'tis Ailie Carter," repeated Esther. "An' I'm glad enough the little thing is found, too. She's half-starved, by the look of her."
"Poor little 'un!" said Job compassionately, and lifting the light weight in his arms—strong arms still, despite his seventy years—he bore her upward towards his own room, followed by Esther. But as they passed the door of her room, Job's burden attracted attention, and Hor and Lettie ran out.