“Because he had not the money to do anything of the sort. He used his money as fast as he received it, and I do not believe he had a dollar left to his name five hours after he was discharged from his job on the railroad.”
“But he might put her on a train some way. He might put her into a box car, and carry her off that way.”
“He might,” admitted Frank; “but I do not believe he has. It is likely that by morning the police will have found them both.”
It was difficult to reassure and quiet the boy, and Frank himself feared there might be some truth in Jack’s fancy that old Joe had carried Nellie off in a box car. The old engineer knew the ropes about the railroad so well that he might do such a thing with very little trouble.
Still carrying Jack, Frank mounted the stairs to the rooms they called home.
“Oh, it don’t seem that I can go in there!” moaned the lame boy. “It will be so bare and lonely without her!”
“Hark!” whispered Frank, stopping.
They heard a voice singing softly and sweetly, “Nearer, My God, to Thee!”
Little Jack almost shrieked aloud.
“It’s her—it’s sister!”