With this, the only thing left to remember her by, I crawled out of the window, shut it carefully behind me--for I had been brought up to leave things as I found them--and stood alone, the most forlorn and deserted boy in America, as I truly believe.
The moon had gone down, and it was dark.

There was frost on the dead grass, and I went out under the old apple-tree and sat down.

What should I do?
Where was my mother?
She was the only one in the world whom I cared for or who loved me.

She was gone, it was night, I was alone and hungry and cold and lost.

Perhaps some of the neighbors might know where John Rucker had taken my mother--this thought came to me only after I had sat there until every house was dark.