While Josie feasted and schemed in the pleasant home of Colonel and Mrs. Trask in Peewee Valley, there were sad hearts in Dorfield. With no news of little Philip, and no word from Josie, Ursula had almost wept her spirit from her eyes. Uncle Peter and Aunt Hannah Conant had done all they could to make Ursula and Ben feel that they were a real uncle and aunt instead of chance acquaintances. Irene had begged them to come and stay with her and had eagerly insisted upon sharing her room with Ursula while Ben was to have the tiny hall room next to the old couple, but Ursula felt she must remain in her own little apartment, in case some word from Philip might arrive. Josie had departed on the midnight train and the rest of the night dragged by, Ben sleeping in spite of himself, because he did not want to sleep at all, but his heavy eyelids refused to Christmas morning dawned with a bright sun sparkling on the deep snow. Dorfield was alive with sleighing parties and holiday noises, the popping of fire crackers and shouts of boys and girls coasting down the hill on the main street of the town, regardless of traffic regulations. There was a good hill on that street and coasting was a sport long before traffic regulations were even heard of—and so it continued. Mary Louise and her Danny came immediately to Ursula as soon as the news of Philip was telephoned to them by Irene. They, too, insisted upon taking the Elletts home with them, but Ursula still was determined upon staying in her own home. Elizabeth Wright appeared on the wings of the wind and eager to do anything possible for the girl whom she had learned to love and respect. “And dear Philip,” she cried, with tears running down her cheeks, “you know how much I loved him, Ursula. I didn’t mean to say loved him—I mean love him. We are going to have him back with us in no time.” The day passed, as days do, whether they be gay or sad. At dusk a boy brought two telegrams for Ursula, one from Josie and one from Teddy Trask. Josie’s was merely a ten-word message of hope and cheer with directions as to how to reach her in case of news of the missing child. Teddy did not confine himself to the usual ten words, but spread himself as though he were writing a night letter. In it he assured Ursula of his lasting regard and informed her that he was doing what he could to assist Josie. Ursula’s heart was a little lighter after reading the telegrams. She felt that Josie was sure to do the wise and prudent thing, and the fact that her dear friends, the Trasks, were once more in touch with her, made her feel that her trouble was at least shared. Bob Dulaney came in again to tell her he had just had a talk over the long distance ’phone “Josie is a regular peach when it comes to finding kids and she will land little Philip in no time,” declared Bob. “That girl has a born instinct for going right. She’d sure make a good gum-shoe reporter. Did you ever hear how she and I nabbed the thief who was going off with Mary Louise’s wedding presents?” Ursula had heard it but she pretended she hadn’t and Bob had the extreme pleasure of recounting the whole adventure in his best newspaper style. “Now don’t forget, Miss Ellett, that if you receive any communication of any sort you will inform me or Chief Lonsdale.” “Yes, Josie made me promise that I would do that. Why do you think they have taken my little brother, Mr. Dulaney? Do you think there was any motive but simply one to annoy and distress me?” “I do. People don’t engage in such dangerous crime just to be annoying. Josie is out hunting a motive and I am working with that Bob’s visit cheered Ursula. It was a comforting thing to know that something was being done. She felt helpless and useless herself. All she could do was sit by the window in her living room and gaze out on the snow, wondering where her little brother was and if he thought of her and missed her as she did him. She was thankful that the kidnaper had taken his overcoat and warm sweater. At least he would not be cold. She That night Ursula slept. A confidence in the goodness of God enveloped her like a mantle. A strange feeling of peace came over her. Ben “Why, Sister, your face looks as if a light was behind it.” “There is, Ben. It is the light of Hope and Faith. It is wicked of me to be so despondent. I am going to keep on hoping and praying and believing and I am sure our baby will be brought back to us.” “Oh, Sister, how glad I am! I won’t be ashamed if I go to sleep to-night. Last night I kept pinchin’ myself to keep awake, although I felt all the time that Phil was comin’ back to us.” “My dear, indeed you must sleep so you will grow big and strong and can take care of little Philip and me,” smiled Ursula. The morning after Christmas found them much calmer and the confidence of the night before remained with them. Ursula busied herself by cleaning her apartment and darning all the stockings, although she could not help shedding a few tears over the big holes in the knees of Philip’s. “He got those playin’ bear,” said Ben. “Phil sure does love to play grizzly.” “One of the shortest days of all the year,” thought Ursula, “and yet how long it has seemed.” She looked out on the darkening street. In a moment the electric lights on the corners were shining, but Ursula sat in the dusk. They lived on a quiet street where few vehicles passed. She saw an automobile stop at the corner and idly watched a man get out and start walking along the snowy sidewalk. There was nothing at all interesting about the man except that the car from which he had alighted did not move off. If he had business up this street why should he walk when he might have ridden. It was a battered car of an old make, swung on high springs, and had evidently seen better days. The man walked rapidly along the street and then disappeared. The girl put her face close to the pane but could see no sign of him. “I believe he came into this house,” she said to herself. “Ah, but there he is again!” She saw him hurry down the street, jump into the old-fashioned car and then he was gone. Ursula pulled down her shade and turned on the light. She glanced at her watch. At least two hours must pass before Ben would be returning from dinner at the Dexters’. What could she do with those long two hours? She could not believe she was the same girl who had been busy every moment of the day and eager always for a few free moments that she might conscientiously give to reading. There were new books on her table, gifts from the friends she had made in Dorfield, magazines with the leaves uncut—but she could not put her mind on reading. Ursula glanced about the room, her eyes wandering. A piece of white paper was under her She picked it up. It was a letter in a dirty envelope, sealed but not stamped, addressed in pencil to Miss Ursula Ellett, in a handwriting that looked as though each letter had been painfully drawn. Ursula feverishly tore open the envelope and read:
Ursula sank on a chair. She felt that she might faint but that fainting would be a very foolish performance when action was necessary. “Uncle Ben dead!” she cried. “I always hoped he would come back to me. What shall I do? What shall I do? Of course I’ll give half of whatever he has left me to get my Philip back. I’ll give all of it—anything.” Suddenly she remembered that she had promised Josie that no matter what communication “But he says he will beat Philip if I tell anybody about this. How am I to know Uncle Ben is really dead and if he is that he has left me a fortune. How will this person know whether I have told anybody or not? How could this person have found me? Who is he and how could he have slipped up to my apartment without my hearing him in the hall?” Suddenly the remembrance of the man who had got out of the rickety old car at the corner flashed through her mind. Could he be the kidnaper? “It says I am honorable and I promised Josie to let them know and I will do it.” She went to the telephone and called up police headquarters. Captain Charlie was on the wire in a moment and deeply interested in what she had to tell him. “Perhaps I am wrong, but I can’t help thinking a man I saw get out of a car at the corner brought the letter,” she said. “Well, well, perhaps!” he answered. “I’ll send a plain clothes man around to see you immediately.” “I’m going out in my Lizzie and get that man right now. You say it was headed south? Then it must have come from the north and no doubt will turn around and go back the way it came. So “Please take a policeman with you,” begged Ursula. “Not on your life! They are too heavyweight for me. I am like the heroes in the movies and go for my man alone. I may even tie a handkerchief around my face and make him hold up his hands.” |