"Come in any time, Mother Watson," said Mrs. Flanagan, "when you want a sip of tea, and I'll be glad to have you take some with me."
"Thank you, Mrs. Flanagan; maybe I'll look in once in a while. A sip of tea goes to the right spot when I feel bad at my stomach."
"Must you be goin', Mother Watson?"
"Yes," said the old woman; "I'm goin' out on a little walk, to see my sister that keeps a candy-stand by the Park railins. If Mark comes in, will you tell him he'll find the matches upstairs?"
This Mrs. Flanagan promised to do, and the old woman went downstairs, and into the street.
But she had not stated her object quite correctly. It was true that she had a sister, who was in the confectionery and apple line, presiding over one of the stalls beside the Park railings. But the two sisters were not on very good terms, chiefly because the candy merchant, who was more industrious and correct in her habits than her sister, declined to lend money to Mother Watson,—a refusal which led to a perfect coolness between them. It was not therefore to see her that the old woman went out. She wanted to find Mark. She did not mean to lose her hold upon him, if there was any chance of retaining it, and she therefore made up her mind to visit the places where he was commonly to be found, and, when found, to bring him home, by violence, if necessary.
So with an old plaid cloak depending from her broad shoulders, and her hand grasping the strap in her pocket, she made her way to the square, peering about on all sides with her ferret-like eyes in the hope of discovering the missing boy.