FOUND AT LAST.
That was a terrible night, and one which would never be forgotten in
Grey Friars Court. Hardly any of the people of the court went to bed,
for they were all helping in the search for the lost children. The
bellman was sent up and down the city till late at night, that he might
try to hear tidings of them; the policemen were making inquiries in all
directions; the neighbours were scouring the city from one end to the
other.
Jack and Sally's father and mother were walking about the whole night,
looking for their children in all places, likely and unlikely. And
Poppy's poor mother, who could not leave the babies, paced up and down
her room, and looked anxiously from her window, and trembled each time
that footsteps came down the court.
She could do nothing herself to help her little girl, but she had a
strong Friend who could help her. Again and again, through that long
anxious night, Poppy's mother asked the Lord to watch over her child,
and to bring her safe home again.
Only one trace of the children had been found when morning dawned; Sally
had dropped her little handkerchief on the path leading to the river;
this handkerchief had been found by a policeman, and it had been shown
to Sally's mother, and she had said, with tears in her eyes, that it
belonged to her little girl.
Could the children be drowned in the river? This was the terrible fear
which the neighbours whispered to each other, as they met together after
the night's search. But no one mentioned it to Poppy's mother.
'I wouldn't tell her about that there handkercher, poor thing,' said one
to another 'maybe they're not in the river after all.'
In the morning, as soon as it was light, search was to be made in the
water for the bodies, and every one in Grey Friars Court waited
anxiously for the result.
Very early in the morning the cathedral door was unlocked, and one of
the vergers, an old man of the name of Standish, entered with his wife,
old Betty Standish, and with his daughter Rose Ann, to make the
cathedral fires, and put all in readiness for the services of the day.
As the two women raked out the cinders and ashes from the stoves, the
sound echoed through the hollow building, and woke the sleeping children
in the tower.
Jack sprang to his feet at once, as he saw the dim grey light stealing
down the staircase, and as he heard the voices in the cathedral.
'It's morning at last,' he said; 'now we shall get out;' and he hammered
with all his might on the door.
But the women were making so much noise themselves that the sound did
not attract their attention; they went on with their fire-lighting and
took no notice. Then the children began to call out--
'Let us out--let us out, please; we're locked in!'
The two women paused in their work and listened.
Again the shout came, 'Let us out--let us out; we can't get out; open
the door, please.'
'Whatever on earth is it?' said Rose Ann, coming up to her mother with
an awestruck face.
'Ay, my dear, _I_ don't know,' said her mother, who was trembling from
head to foot. 'I never heard the like; I never did. Call your father,
Rose Ann.'
The verger was in the choir, putting the books in order, and making all
ready for the service. He came at once when his daughter called him.
'Listen, Joshua, listen,' said old Betty.
And once more the children called. 'Let us out, please; we're locked
in; let us out.'
'Do ye think it's a ghost, Joshua?' said his wife, looking fearfully at
the old tombs by which she was surrounded on all sides.
'Ghost! Rubbish!' said her husband; but he was as white as a sheet, and
almost as frightened as she was.
'Let's go and tell the Dean,' said Rose Ann.
'Nonsense,' said the verger, who had recovered himself a little; 'let's
listen where the sound comes from.'
'Let us out; unlock the door, please!' shouted the children again.
'It's some one in the tower,' said the old man; 'though how on earth any
one could have got there it passes me to think.'
So the old people and their daughter went in the direction of the cries,
and the verger took the great old key from his pocket which unlocked the
tower door. Yet even when the key was in the key-hole he paused a
moment, as if he did not like to turn it in the lock.
'I wonder whoever it can be,' he said timidly.
'It's a ghost; I'll be bound it's a ghost,' said old Betty; 'they say
they _do_ haunt all these queer old places.'
'Well, we'll have a look,' said her husband, summoning up all his
courage; 'so here goes.' He turned the key, the door flew open, and out
came the three poor children, weary, pale, and shivering with cold.
'Well, I never!' said the verger's wife, holding up her hands in
amazement.
'Wherever on earth have you come from?' said her husband.
'I know, father,' said Rose Ann; 'these must be the three children of
Grey Friars Court. I heard the bellman crying them last night.'
'Poor little cold things!' said old Betty, 'and have ye been locked in
the tower all night?'
'Yes, ma'am,' said Poppy, 'all night.'
'But however did you get there?' said the verger. 'That's what I want to
know.'
'Please, sir, don't be angry,' said Jack; 'we found the door open, and
we went in.'
'Well, I never heard the like,' said Rose Ann. 'I declare they're
shaking from head to foot. Such a night as it has been, too; it'll be a
wonder if it isn't the death of them.'
'Come along, my poor bairns,' said the old woman. 'I've got some hot
coffee on the hob at home; you shall have a drink at once.'
'Oh no, thank you,' said Poppy; 'I must go home to mother.'
'So you shall, my dear; so you shall,' said old Betty; 'but you'll go
all the quicker for getting a bit of warmth into you; why, you're stiff
with cold, I declare. Poor lambs, you _must_ have had a night of it!
Bring them across, Rose Ann.' And the kind old woman trotted on in front
to stir her fire into a blaze, and to pour out the hot coffee for the
poor children.
She made them sit with their feet on the fender whilst they were
drinking it, and she gave them each a piece of a hot cake, which she
brought out of the oven. And all the time they were eating it she and
Rose Ann were crying over them by turns, and the old verger was shaking
his head and saying: 'I never heard the like; it's a strange business
altogether, it is.'
As soon as they were warmed and fed, the verger, and his wife, and Rose
Ann took the children home; and I wish you could have seen their arrival
in Grey Friars Court. There was such a kissing, and hugging, and crying;
such an excitement and stir; such a rejoicing over the children, who had
been lost but were found again, and such a thanksgiving in the heart of
Poppy's mother, as she saw the answer to her prayer.
No one could make too much of the three children that day. They were
invited out to tea to every house in the court, and sweets, and cakes,
and pennies were showered upon them, till the two mothers declared they
would be quite spoilt, and till Jack announced he would not much mind
spending another night in the tower, if they got all these good things
when they came home. But Poppy and Sally shook their heads at this, and
would not agree with him.