Richard made no comment whatever, but, like Andy, he conned the letter over and over until he knew it by heart, especially the part referring to himself.  She had cast a shadow upon his life, but she was very dear to him for all that, and he would gladly have taken back the substance, had that been possible.  This letter Richard carried to Aunt Barbara, whom he found sitting in her pleasant porch, with the May moonlight falling upon her face, and her eyes wearing the look of one who is constantly expecting something which never comes.  And Aunt Barbara was expecting Ethie.  It could not be that a young girl like her would stay away for long.  She might return at any time, and every morning the good woman said to herself, “She will be here to-day;” every night, “She will come home to-morrow.”  The letter, however, did not warrant such a conclusion There was no talk of coming back, but the postmark, “New York,” told where she was, and that was something gained.  They could surely find her now, Aunt Barbara said, and she and Richard talked long together about what he was going to do, for he was on his way then to the great city.

“Bring her to me at once.  It is my privilege to have her first,” Aunt Barbara said, next morning, as she bade Richard good-by, and then began to watch and wait for tidings which never came.

Richard could not find Ethelyn, or any trace of her, and after a protracted search of six long weeks, he went back to his Iowa home, sick, worn out, and discouraged.  Aunt Barbara roused herself for action.  “Men were good for nothing to hunt.  They could not find a thing if it was right before their face and eyes.  It took a woman; and she was going to see what she could do,” she said to Mrs. Van Buren, who was up at the homestead for a few days, and who looked aghast at her sister’s proposition, that she should accompany her, and help her hunt up Ethie.

“Was Barbara crazy, that she thought of going to New York in this hot weather, when the smallpox, and the dysentery, and the plague, and mercy knew what was there?  Besides that, how did Barbara intend to manage?  What was she going to do?”

Barbara hardly knew herself how she should manage, or what she should do.  “Providence would direct,” she said, though to be sure she had an idea.  Ethie had written that she had found employment, and what was more probable than to suppose that the employment was giving music lessons, for which she was well qualified, or teaching in some gentleman’s family.  Taking this as her basis, Aunt Barbara intended to inquire for every governess and teacher in the city, besides watching every house where such an appendage would be likely to be found.  Still her great hope was in the street and the Park.  She should surely meet Ethie there some day—­at least she would try the effect of her plan; and she went quietly on with her preparations, while Mrs. Van Buren tried to dissuade her from a scheme which seemed so foolish and utterly impracticable.