Fortune pursued her way.  She had just reached the gate of the opposite exit of the field when a light hand was laid on her arm.  Turning quickly, she saw the same girl.

“For the love of God, madam,” she said, “don’t you tell on me—­it’s as much as my place is worth—­he would kill me, if he knew—­but we had two little kids here, and that poster in front of the circus gives their very description to a hair.  But they have run away—­they ran away some days ago, and God in heaven only knows where they are now.”

“What were their names?” asked Fortune.

“Diana was the name of the girl——­”

“Diana!” cried Fortune.  “You need not tell me any more; and so it was you who stole ’em?”

“I!” said the girl; “I had nothing to do with it.  I was kind to ’em when I could, and nothing would ever frighten Diana.  But oh, please, promise you won’t tell on me—­you won’t let out that I said anything?”

“No, my dear; I won’t injure you,” said Fortune; “but I must know this:  When was it they ran away?”

“Three nights ago, madam; and Ben Holt, he’s fairly wild at losing the girl.  He doesn’t think anything at all about the boy, but the little girl—­why, she won us all, she was so plucky and fearless.  But they ran away three nights back, and no one knows where they are.”

“Don’t keep me,” said Fortune.  “I’m much obliged to you; but don’t keep me now.”

She left the field where the tent was, and began to walk rapidly down the lane.

“Now, am I an American or am I not?” she thought.  “Do I, or do I not, want the police to interfere in this matter?  Do I, or do I not, want to find those children my very own self?  They were here three nights ago, and they have run away.  What can be the meaning of it?”

Fortune pressed her hand to her forehead.

“Well, if there’s one thing more evident than another.” she muttered after a pause, “it’s this:  I must not leave Madersley at present.  I’ll just go to the hotel and tell Mr. Dolman that I am on the trail, and that not all the coaxing and all the worriting in the world will get me off it until I have found those children.”

No sooner had this resolve formed itself in Fortune’s stalwart mind than she hailed a fly and desired the man to drive her to the Madersley Arms.  When she reached the big hotel she was shown at once into Mr. Dolman’s presence.

“Now, sir,” she said; “I hope you have all had a good tea and enjoyed it.”

“Very much, thank you,” replied Uncle William, who really, if the truth must be known, was having quite a delightful time—­no Aunt Jane to pull him up, no sermons to write, and a vast amount of variety to occupy his mind.  “We have enjoyed our tea, all of us,” he said; “and now, Fortune, would not you like a cup?  Iris, my dear, we’ll ring the bell for some more hot water.”

“Thank you, sir” replied Fortune; “but I have no time to eat nor drink at present.  I am on the trail, and no one can get me off it.”