Mrs. Tracy turned the world upside down. Not a soul in that house could sleep, could rest, could eat, during her reign of terror. It was not only her personal grief at the loss of the child that distracted her, but the monstrous affront to her pride.
She was informed that Maisie had called to see her, and had been told to wait in the hall until she returned from the theater.
“And the treacherous, wicked creature must have crept up the stairs and stolen the child!” she cried. “She must have taken the poor, helpless little thing while it slept! Didn’t you hear a sound, Lester?”
“Not a sound,” said he.
“If there is a law in the land, she shall be punished!” said Mrs. Tracy.
If she could have had her way, she would have made it a criminal offense for any one to harbor the treacherous Maisie, to give her a morsel of food or a roof to shelter her. Her haughty spirit brooded over the insult until she was ill from it. The lawyer dreaded the sight of her haggard face.
“It’s very difficult to trace so obscure and ordinary a person,” he protested.
“My grandchild is neither obscure nor ordinary,” she said. “Set your wits to work. The child must be found!”
As Mrs. Tracy had large resources and Maisie none at all, this was accomplished. The girl was discovered acting as general servant in a lonely country house—a wretched, ill paid position, with work beyond her young strength; but she could have her baby with her, and she fancied herself safe. From the kitchen window she could see her small idol staggering about in the grass. She could lie at night in her attic room with the child in her arms. They had food to eat, clean air to breathe, and a roof overhead.
Mrs. Tracy’s idea was to go out there by motor and simply take the child away, but the lawyer dissuaded her.