After Mr. Sowers left Mrs. Rebecca King’s residence, she seated herself in the parlor to try to think where her son could have went [sic]. She could form no definite idea.

“I can’t think,” Mrs. King said after she had puzzled her brain for some time. “I cannot think for my life where Albert can be. He has no friends he cared about staying with. I will ask my boarder Dr. Maltby if he has seen Al anywhere today. I don’t think he can be with any of his friends.” So, having relieved her mind thus, she went out in the kitchen to see about dinner for her “boarder,” as she always called and delighted to call Dr. Maltby. She said her son had no friends he cared about staying with. Ah! Poor innocent-minded parents don’t know what an Evil heart their children sometimes have. She thought there was no young man so guileless as her son. He had always acted in her presence as a perfect gentleman. We will proceed to give a description of her person. She was a slim-faced woman of forty-five or near about. She had dark hair a little sprinkled with gray. She was also remarkably tall. She had married young to a man named Phillip King. He had died a good while before the opening of our story. He was a hard-working, honest man, and long before he left her a widow he had bought this house on the upper end of Loudon Street, and she had lived with ease and comfort in her nice little house for some years. She had rented one of her front rooms out to good old Dr. Maltby, an old bachelor, a genial, jovial old man, and as a doctor his reputation was considered par excellence number one.

Mrs. King wouldn’t have cared if he would propose, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Well, dinner time came, and so did Dr. Maltby. He always wore a pleasant face. No one knew of his heart sorrow, no one thought he had ever had a heart sorrow, but we shall see. He came in humming a favorite tune.

“Well, Mrs. King, how are you today?” said he as he entered the dining room.

“I am well, thank you, how are you?” said Mrs. King cordially as she proceeded to pour him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, I am well, always well,” he said gaily as he took the proffered cup of hot coffee. When Mrs. King passed it to him, they ate dinner quietly, and as the doctor finished his dinner, Mrs. King asked:

“Say, Doctor, have you seen my boy today? Mr. Sowers, his employer, was here today inquiring for him. Have you seen him?”

The doctor studied for some time before he spoke. Finally he said as he arose from the table, “No ma’am,” said he, “I have not seen him anywhere today. Excuse me for being so long in answering your question.”

“Very excusable, Doctor, you are very excusable,” said Mrs. King flippantly. “I know how it must be with you. You have so many patients to attend that your mind gets mixed up.” The doctor didn’t stay at his office long. He had to go to attend some more of his patients. Mrs. King’s thoughts soon turned to Albert. Where could he be? This question came to her for the twentieth time and was as often put away unanswered. Her mind wandered back to the time when her Albert was small, when she could always keep him in sight. Now he had come home on Sunday and took some of his clothes away and told her a falsehood. What was his motive? She finally went upstairs to his room. She looked around to see what clothes he had taken. She started back aghast when she discovered his trunk was gone. Who could have taken it? How could his trunk be carried out of the house and she know nothing about it?

“Oh,” said she as she sank into a seat. “Oh where is my son gone? Has he deserted me? Or has someone taken advantage of his absence and stole his trunk?”

Oh! How a mother loves a child! Her child is her very life! She had rather suffer all privations, hardships, toil, and woe, and even to meet death for her child. There is no love so strong, no love so binding as a mother’s love. How thankful all those who have a mother ought to be. But let us return to the subject. ÷

Mrs. King finally arose and went downstairs. She met her servant girl in the hall.

“Ann,” said she as she reached the hall. “Ann, Albert’s trunk is gone. It must be stolen, or has my son ran away and left me? Oh Ann, if he has I shall go crazy. If he is not seen or heard of today it will dement me. I can’t stand this suspense.”

And the poor woman shed tears profusely as she leaned her head on the breast of her faithful servant, Ann. Oh the anguish of that mother’s heart then. How she would have clasped her dear boy to her breast if he was only with her. It takes an iron heart to withstand a mother’s smile, a mother’s caress. The hard-hearted man will welcome a mother’s Smile. The inebriates, the assassins, the thief’s heart will become softened under the influence of a mother’s smile.

Ann led her mistress to the sitting room and brought her the camphor bottle as it was Mrs. King’s favorite medicine when the doctor was away. She composed herself as well as she could to await the coming of the doctor. As she sat in her easy chair, she again began to wonder where her son was. He could easily climb up to his windows as the back porch was directly under it, but he must have had help. He couldn’t get his trunk away without help. Had any of her servants helped him? Perhaps Dick the errand boy had; she would ask him. So when Dick came, she accosted him as follows:

“Dick, your Marse Albert’s trunk is gone. How came you to help him carry it away? Deny it if you dare and I’ll fairly skin you.”

Dick trembled like a leaf, but he was like the great and noble Washington—he wouldn’t tell a Lie. Says Dick to himself: ÷ “No, I’ll not tell a lie. I don’t care what she does.” Then he said in a clear voice, “I can’t help it, Mum, if you skin me entirely. I ain’t a’goin’ to tell no lie about I know nothin’ about it.” Mrs. King was exasperated with rage at this impudent answer from a little niggah, as she termed him. There was [sic] no white servants in Winchester at that time. The people who didn’t own slaves always hired them from their masters or have [sic] a free negro bound to them until he or she was twenty-one. Dick was bound to her until he was of age. He was about fifteen years of age, and Mrs. King always said, “He had a good many pots of mush to eat before he’d be a man.” She looked at him for a considerable time before she spoke. She seemed as if she was about to change her mind about skinning Dick for a while yet. Finally, she said: ÷

“Well, my young man, you are certainly very impudent, and for two cents I’d give you a genteel whipping.” Dick didn’t mind threats, so they were not carried out. By this time, Dr. Maltby had returned. He was always very sociable, and Mrs. King took it for granted he was making hasty preparations for a proposal. Wouldn’t she accept? Now you had better bet she would! As soon as the doctor came, he went into the parlor to have a pleasant chat with Mrs. King. Her first question was:

“Well, Doctor, I see you have got back. Have you seen Albert yet in your rounds?”

The doctor had to study again for a considerable time. It seemed as if his mind was more preoccupied that day than usual. Eventually he said:

“Indeed, madam, I have not. I guess he has got back to the mill ere^[1] this. I’ll go out there tomorrow and see if he isn’t there. If he isn’t there. I will make inquiries about him.”

They seated themselves, and she related all the circumstances about the trunk to him. At the conclusion, he said, “Well, well, that does seem very, very strange. Perhaps he is only playing a joke on you.”

His explanation seemed plausible enough, so Mrs. King made no more reference to her son’s absence in the doctor’s presence that evening. But she thought it a good time to put in a word of courtship, so she began thus: ÷ “Doctor, why don’t you get married? You could get a good wife here in Winchester.” Her words had at last touched the right cord, for the doctor’s muscles twitched nervously as she spoke. Ah? She thought she had gained a point, but the doctor crushed her high hopes by saying a[s] he rose to take his leave: ÷

“Mrs. King, I beg you never to refer to that subject again. I have loved and do love a woman I never expect to see. I have looked for her for years and have had no tidings of her yet. That and only that has turned my hair so gray. I have grown gray in Grief for her I loved so well.” He closed the door hastily as he ceased speaking and went into his office. Strange words, very strange words for a man to utter, a man who was always so jovial as Dr. Maltby was. Who he could have loved was more than Mrs. King could find out.

So she sat and wondered at his strange words. Her mind then went back to the home of her childhood, then of [sic] the time when she parted with her brother. She had not seen him for a good many years. She supposed he had been married ere this. Oh, if she could only see that dear brother, how happy she would be. Then came the thought: Would she ever meet him? Was he living or dead? Would she know him if she was to see him? Yes, she would know her dear brother if she would ever see him. Of course she would, why not?

Time flies fast and it was soon supper time. She went downstairs to order supper. She met Dick in the passage, and she asked in a stentorious voice, “Dick, have you set the table? If you have not, you had better do so as quick as you can. Have you set it?”

“Yes ma’am, I have set the table,” said Dick quietly as he went to attend his other duties. Mrs. King proceeded to the kitchen to see what Ann was doing toward getting supper. She found Ann very busy. Ann was a free girl too and was hired from her parents by Mrs. King. She was a very smart girl and George Munro, the boy that lived with Mr. Sowers, was very much attached to her, and she to him.