"No, sir. Thank you for bringing her home," said John.
He stood in the middle of the kitchen with a grave, thoughtful face. He did not look altogether unhappy, but a kind of bewilderment seemed to weigh upon him. The eyes of his mother and his old friend were full of sympathy; they knew that the loss of Lily had not been the only trouble of those twenty-four hours. The child, when he put her down, still clung to his hand.
"Go to mother, dear," said John, and Mrs. Randal held out her arms.
For a minute there was no sound but the loving words that she whispered in Lily's ear.
"Mother, there's been some big mistake," John burst out suddenly. "The child says it wasn't Mary as took her to the fair after all. It was Mrs. Alfrick as walked her off before Mary came down."
Mrs. Randal stared and shook her head.
"Oh, that can't be, John. Granny Pierce told me she'd seen them. And—why—you met Polly yourself coming back. You said so."
"Yes, of course," John said impatiently. "Polly knew the child was lost—she'd been looking for her—but I see now it wasn't Polly as lost her. I expect she went after them, when she found her stepmother had taken the child. That's what she would be sure to do. What a blind fool I've been!"
His voice shook.
"Well, my lad, that quarrel will be soon made up," said Mr. Bland consolingly; but John seemed hardly to hear.