To do her neighbours justice, we could not doubt--considering how they talked then--that they had made inquiries in all the streets and courts around.
"And wherever t' owld lass _can_ ha' gone!" sobbed the woman who had been her neighbour in the noblest sense of neighbourhood.
I was beginning to comfort her when Dennis gripped me by the arm: "I know," said he.

"Come along." His face was white, his eyes shone, and he tossed his head so wildly, he looked madder than Biddy had looked; but when he began to run, and roughs in the streets began to pursue him, I ran too, as a matter of safety.

We drew breath at the dock gates.
The gatekeeper told us that old Biddy, "looking quite herself, only a bit thinner like," had gone through the evening before, to meet some one who was coming off one of the vessels, as he understood, but he had not noticed her on her return.

He had heard her ask some man about a ship from New York.
I wanted to hear more, but Dennis clutched me again and dragged me on.
"I'll know the wharf when I see it," said he.
Suddenly he stopped, and pointed.

A wharf, but no vessel, only the water sobbing against the stones.
"That's the wharf," he gasped.