Dorian was not tardy to Sunday School, and, considering his mental
condition, he gave a good account of himself in the class. He heard
whispered comment on Carlia's disappearance.

After Sunday school Dorian went directly to Carlia's home. He found the
mother tear-stained and haggard with care. The tears flowed again freely
at the sight of Dorian, and she clung to him as if she had no other
means of comfort.

"Do you know where Carlia is?" she wailed.

"No, Sister Duke, I haven't the last idea. I haven't seen her for some
time."

"But what shall we do, Dorian, what shall we do! She may be dead, lying
dead somewhere!"

"I hardly think that," he tried to comfort her. "She'll turn up again.
Carlia's well able to take care of herself."

The father came in. He told what had been done to try to find the
missing girl. Not a word had they heard, not a clue or a trace had been
discovered. The father tried hard to control his emotions as he talked,
but he could not keep the tears from slowly creeping down his face.

"And I suppose I'm greatly to blame" he said. "I have been told as much
by some, who I suppose, are wiser than I am. The poor girl has been
confined too much to the work here."