"We must hope still, my love," he said. "To-morrow may bring news from
the Central London Police Office, where the Sandlingham overseer has
written to. He bade us keep up hope for a few days yet, we must
remember."
"Only for a few days more," repeated Grandmamma. "And if those days
bring nothing, what _are_ we to think--what are we to do?"
"Upon my soul," said Grandpapa, "I do _not_ know;" and with a heavy sigh
he turned away again, glancing at the newspaper as if half inclined to
open it, but without the heart to do so.
"Of course," he said, "if by any possibility they had fallen into kind
hands, and it had occurred to any one to advertise about them, we should
have known it before this. The police are all on the alert by now. If
dishonest people have carried them off for the sake of a reward, they
will find means of claiming it before long. The head-man at Sandlingham
does not advise our offering a reward as yet. He says it might lead to
more delay if they are in dishonest hands. Their captors would wait to
see if more would not be offered--better let them make the first move,
he says."
"To think of putting a price on the darlings, as if they were little
strayed dogs!" exclaimed Grandmamma, lifting her hands.
Just at this moment the door opened, and Dymock came in.
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