Wait and Hope: or, A Plucky Boy's Luck

"No, my name isn't Mary. My name is Emma."

"Did they change your name, my dear child? Was it not enough to take you away from me, without changing your name?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Emma, ore and more alarmed.

"I want to go back to Ben."

"Would you leave your mother, my child?"

"You are not my mother. Let me go."

Emma ran to the door, but it was locked, and the key was in the lady's pocket.

"I cannot let you go, my dear child. You have been away from me too long already. I have been very lonely without you."

Her tone was still kind – it had never varied – but Emma was thoroughly frightened.

"Let me go!" she began to cry. "I want to go to Ben."

The lady looked at her in mingled grief and wonder.

"Can a child turn from her own mother to a stranger?" she said musingly. "She forgets that she is my little Mary. She no longer loves me."

"My name is Emma," said the little girl. "Why did you take me away from Ben?"

Help was at hand, though it came from a stranger.

A knock was heard at the door, and the lady rose and opened it. The newcomer was a little younger than the lady already mentioned, but bore such a resemblance to her as to indicate that she was her sister. She looked at surprise at Emma.

"Where did you get this child, Clara?" she asked.

"It is my little Mary. Don't you see that it is?"

"You are mistaken, Clara. Your little Mary is in heaven."

"She has come back again. This is she. Don't you see that it is she?" asked the lady called Clara earnestly.

"My poor sister," said the younger lady compassionately, "you are mistaken. This is not your little Mary. Where did you find her? To whom does she belong?"

Emma had listened to this conversation with interest, feeling that it concerned her. She answered the question herself.

"I belong to Ben," she said.

"Where is Ben?" asked the younger lady.

"He is at the big stone chimney. He was going up to the top. He left me with her."

"You mean the monument, don't you, my dear child?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is this true, Clara?"

"Yes," the elder sister admitted.

The younger lady looked perplexed.

"You did wrong, Clara, to take the little girl from her brother. He will feel very anxious about her.

"She said she would buy me some candy," said Emma.

"Could I see my child, and not claim her?" said Clara.

"I am not your child. What makes her say I am her child?"

"My dear," said the younger lady gently, "my poor sister lost her little girl not long since. She has not been well since. When she saw you to-day she thought you were her little Mary."

"I want to go back to Ben. What will Ben say?"

"Certainly, you must go back to your brother. Come, my child, we will try to find him."

Emma went down-stairs with her new friend. Clara did not attempt to hinder her, but seated herself with an air of dependency in an armchair, and buried her face in her hands.

"I am afraid Ben has gone away," said Emma.

"It is very perplexing," said the young lady to herself. "We will go out and try to find your brother. If we cannot, you can tell me where your home is and I will take you there."

"I don't know exactly where it is," said Emma; "I have never been there. I came from New York. I am going to board with Ben's aunt."

"And you don't know where she lives? You don't know the name of the town."

Emma shook her head.

"My poor sister has done great mischief," said the young lady gravely.

"I must do my best to remedy it."

They went out into the street together.

Meanwhile, Ben, in great trouble of mind, remained in the neighborhood of the monument for ten minutes or more.

"Perhaps the lady has taken Emma on a little walk," he thought.

"Perhaps she thought I wouldn't be down so soon."

Ben felt that it was very inconsiderate, but he would not at first believe that there was anything really wrong. But when ten minutes has passed he became alarmed, and began to blame himself.

"Aunt was right," he thought. "I wasn't fit to be trusted with the care of a little girl. What shall I say to Mr. Manning? What shall I do?"