"Where's your faith, ma'am?" he said, rather sternly.
"I am sure I don't know," she said, with a faint smile. "It may be the will—the will of—Providence—that the children should not come home."
The old man stood still again, and raised his cap from a silvery head.
"There's One above as won't let him go too far," he said. "We have our orders, which is enough for me. Carry on."
And really faith or fortune did seem to befriend Mrs. Beauchamp at last. It was just after they had knocked at the second closed door, and had received a very short negative to their inquiry, which the maidservant evidently considered to be an ill-timed joke, that a door on the opposite side of the road opened suddenly, and a great stream of light flashed out.
There were some confused farewells, a gathering up of skirts, and laughter; and in a minute the Royal Navy was standing at the salute before the master of the house.
"The lady and I are looking for some twins, sir."
Instead of the ready "No" they half expected, the man paused, and smiled whimsically.
"Well, what have the little beggars been doing now?" he said.
Never had any words sounded quite so sweet to Mrs. Beauchamp. She too came into the circle of light, and lifted her sweet, tired, beseeching face.