"Where?" asked Rose, in alarm.
"Over to Blackwell's Island. He was took up this morning for stealing."
"I don't believe it," said Rose, indignantly. "I know he wouldn't steal."
"Oh, well, have it your own way, then. Perhaps you know better than I do. Only I'm glad I'm not where he is."
Of course this story was all a fabrication, invented to tease poor Rose. Though the little girl didn't believe it, she feared that Rufus might have got into some trouble,—some innocent persons are sometimes unjustly suspected,—and the bare possibility of such a thing was sufficient to make her feel unhappy. Poor child! But yesterday she had been full of innocent joy and happiness, and now everything seemed dark and sorrowful. When should she see Rufie again? That was the anxious thought that kept her awake half the night.
CHAPTER XVII
SEARCHING FOR ROSE.
If Rose passed an unhappy afternoon and evening at the new home in Brooklyn, her brother was scarcely less unhappy in his old home in New York. He loved his little sister devotedly, and the thought that she might be receiving ill-treatment troubled him exceedingly. But there was this difference between them: Rose was timid, and saw no other way but to endure whatever hardships her lot imposed upon her. Rough and Ready, on the other hand, was bold and enterprising, and not easily discouraged. His first thought, therefore, was to get his sister back again. He had never been afraid of his stepfather for himself, only for his mother, while she lived, and afterwards for his little sister. In the present case, he knew that Martin was irritated at his withdrawing the little girl from him, and feared that she would fare the worse now on this account.
He spent the evening with Miss Manning, who was scarcely less troubled than himself at the loss of Rose. The lonely seamstress had found a great solace and comfort in the society of the little girl, and her heart had been drawn to her. She missed her sweet face, and the thousand questions which Rose was in the habit of asking as they sat together through the long day, which didn't seem half so long now as formerly, when she was alone.
When Rufus entered the little room, the first object his eyes rested upon was the little reading-book from which Rose had been in the habit of getting her daily lessons. "When will she read in it again?" he thought, with a pang.
"She was getting along so well in her reading," said Miss Manning, who divined his thoughts. "It's such a pity she should be taken away just at this time."