“Why, Peggy,” said the woman, as she opened the door, “I thought you never would have come again!  However, I see you have got me a hand at last, and God knows I’m enough in want of her; for two of my brats have thought proper to fall sick, and I have more to do than ever I had in my life.”

On the following day Eliza’s filthy rags were all taken off, and she was dressed in a tidy brown-stuff gown, a nice clean round-eared cap, and a little colored bib and apron; and she was ordered, if any person asked her name, to say it was Biddy Bullen, and that she was niece to the woman who employed her.

The severity with which all this wretch’s commands were enforced wholly prevented any of the helpless victims who were under her protection from daring to disobey them; and though most of them were placed under her care by the same vile agent who had decoyed Eliza, yet they were all tutored to relate similar untruths.

But I now think it is high time to carry my little readers back to the cottage scene, where Susan was arranging things in order for breakfast, and Sophia and her sister were anxiously watching the moment when the cake was pronounced completely ready.

The old woman soon returned with the milk-pail on her arm, and Susan eagerly demanded:  “Where’s Miss Eliza?”

“Oh, the pretty creature!” replied her mother, “she’ll be here in a minute, I warrant her; but she has gone skipping after our Billy, and the two sweet innocents they are together.”

She then went to the oven, produced the cake, and began buttering it with all expedition, while Sophia joyously ran to the door of the cow-house, and began loudly calling her sister Eliza.

No answer being returned, Susan began to feel alarmed, but the young ladies told her not to be frightened, as they knew it was only one of Eliza’s pranks.  But, alas! too soon were they convinced it was no joke, but some dreadful misfortune must have happened.

“Miss Eliza!  Miss Eliza!” was vociferated through the village, not only by Susan and her mother, but by all the neighbors who had heard of the calamity, while her sisters ran about frantic with grief, crying, “Eliza, my love! my darling!  Oh, if you are hid, for pity’s sake speak!”

Nurse Chapman got up about half-past nine, and, hearing the children were not returned from their walk, sent the housemaid directly after them.

The garden, the shrubbery, and the lawn were all searched without success; and just as Betty was returning to inform the nurse they were not to be found, she perceived Susan and the two children enter a little green gate at the bottom of the shrubbery.

“Where’s Miss Eliza?” called Betty, in a voice as loud as she could articulate.

“God knows!  God knows!” replied the careless girl, sobbing so loud she could scarcely speak.

“How! where! when!” said the others.  “Why, poor nurse will go stark, staring mad!”