"Why, yes," returned Waveney, surprised by the question. "Miss Chaytor and her brother live in High Street."
"And their names?—their Christian names, I mean?" asked the stranger, hoarsely.
"Mr. Chaytor's name is Thorold," returned Waveney, simply, "and his sister is Joanna." Then the man snatched up the child in his arms; he seemed almost beside himself. "Thank God, we have found them, Bet. My dear old Theo and Joa! Oh, what a fool I have been, going so far afield, and all the time they are actually at Dereham;" and then he sat down, and a few words cleared up the mystery.
About an hour later, as Joanna was drawing the crimson curtains over the window, Jemima threw open the door with a little fling.
"There is a child outside wanting to speak to you, ma'am. I would not let her into the passage, because she might have come to beg; but she said she wanted Miss Chaytor most particular."
"Very well, Jemima, I will go and speak to her;" and Joanna, who was very tender-hearted and never turned away a tramp unfed, went quickly to the door.
A little girl, a tiny creature, was standing there. She looked up in Joanna's face wistfully.
"Oh, please will you tell me if you are Miss Chaytor—Miss Joanna Chaytor," correcting herself with careful pronunciation.
"That is my name, certainly," returned Joanna, rather surprised at this. "And what do you want with me, my little girl?"
"Oh, please, Aunt Joa," returned the child, "I am Betty, dad's little Betty, and daddy is at the gate." And then, the next moment, a man's shadow was distinctly visible.