"
But John went on searching still. The next day and for many days he
looked for her and tried every means to find her, but she could not be
found. Again and again his mother told him that it was of no use, but
still he said: "It might be some use, and I wouldn't be easy if I
didn't try."
By and by there came a time when even John did not think that there
was any use in trying longer. He read many papers, from many different
cities, hoping always to find something about some unknown girl who
had been found, sick or hurt or helpless, somewhere, but he said
little about her. He went on with his old work, and he and his mother
were alone and lonely in the house. Then John came to believe that
Kathleen was dead. He told his mother this and she answered: "Kathleen
is not dead."
"And how do you know that, mother?" John said. "You always say that
the Good People took her away, but that might be true, and still she
might be dead by now. And the Good People might not have taken her at
all. How do you know?"
"I don't know that the Good People took her," she answered, "though I
think they did; but I am sure she is not dead.
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