For Name and Fame | Page 7

in God. That mark was placed there that we might
know our boy again and, were it not decreed that we should again see
him, that mark would have been useless."
The thought, for a time, greatly cheered Mrs. Ripon but, gradually, the
hope that she should ever see her boy again faded away; and Captain
Ripon became much alarmed at the manifest change in her health.

In spite of all Captain Ripon could do, no news was obtained of the
gypsy, or Tom. For weeks he rode about the country, asking questions
in every village; or hurried away to distant parts of England, where the
police thought they had a clue.
It was all in vain. Every gypsy encampment in the kingdom was
searched, but without avail; and even the police, sharp eyed as they are,
could not guess that the decent-looking Irishwoman, speaking--when
she did speak, which was seldom, for she was a taciturn woman--with a
strong brogue, working in a laundry in a small street in the Potteries,
Notting Hill, was the gypsy they were looking for; or that the little boy,
whose father she said was at sea, was the child for whose discovery a
thousand pounds was continually advertised.
Chapter 2
: The Foundling.
It was a bitterly cold night in January. The wind was roaring across the
flats and fens of Cambridgeshire, driving tiny flakes of snow before it.
But few people had been about all day, and those whose business
compelled them to face the weather had hurried along, muffled up to
the chin. It was ten at night; and the porter and his wife at the
workhouse, at Ely, had just gone to bed, when the woman exclaimed:
"Sam, I hear a child crying."
"Oh, nonsense!" the man replied, drawing the bedclothes higher over
his head. "It is the wind; it's been whistling all day."
The woman was silent, but not convinced. Presently she sat up in bed.
"I tell you, Sam, it's a child; don't you hear it, man? It's a child, outside
the gate. On such a night as this, too. Get up, man, and see; if you won't,
I will go myself."
"Lie still, woman. It's all thy fancy."

"You are a fool, Sam Dickson," his wife said, sharply. "Do you think I
have lived to the age of forty-five, and don't know a child's cry, when I
hear it? Now are you going to get up, or am I?"
With much grumbling, the porter turned out of bed, slipped on a pair of
trousers and a greatcoat, took down the key from the wall, lighted a
lantern, and went out. He opened the gate, and looked out. There was
nothing to be seen; and he was about to close the gate again, with a
curse on his wife's fancies, when a fresh cry broke on his ears. He
hurried out now and, directed by the voice, found lying near the gate a
child, wrapped in a dark-colored shawl, which had prevented him from
seeing it at his first glance. There was no one else in sight.
Illustration: Sam Dickson finds little Willie Gale.
The man lifted his lantern above his head, and gave a shout. There was
no answer. Then he raised the child and carried it in; locked the door,
and entered the lodge.
"You are right, for once," he said. "Here is a child, and a pretty heavy
one, too. It has been deserted by someone; and a heartless creature she
must have been, for in another half hour it would have been frozen to
death, if you had not heard it."
The woman was out of bed now.
"It is a boy," she said, opening the shawl, "about two years old, I should
say.
"Don't cry, my boy--don't cry.
"It's half frozen, Sam. The best thing will be to put it into our bed, that
has just got warm. I will warm it up a little milk. It's no use taking it
into the ward, tonight."
Ten minutes later the child was sound asleep; the porter--who was a
good-natured man--having gone over to sleep in an empty bed in the
house, leaving the child to share his wife's bed.

In the morning the foundling opened its eyes and looked round. Seeing
everything strange, it began to cry.
"Don't cry, dear," the woman said. "I will get you some nice breakfast,
directly."
The kindness of tone at once pacified the child. It looked round.
"Where's mother?" he asked.
"I don't know, dear. We shall find her soon enough, no doubt; don't you
fret."
The child did not seem inclined to fret. On the contrary, he brightened
up visibly.
"Will she beat Billy, when she comes back?"
"No, my dear, she sha'n't beat you. Does she often beat you?"
The