But he was never far away, ready to be called any moment, and
generally where he could be seen from some of the many windows of the big,
old-fashioned house.
This had always been his custom until the winter of which I am speaking.
This winter Jack seemed to have fallen into queer ways. He came home, to be
sure, at the usual time, but, after the little visit with his mother,
seemed to disappear entirely. For an hour and a half he positively could
not be found. They could not see him, no matter which way they looked, and
they could not even make him hear when they called.
This all seemed very strange, but he had always been a trusty boy, and his
mother thought little of it at first. Still, as Jack continued to
disappear, day after day, at the same hour, for weeks, she thought it best
to speak to his father about it.
"How long does he stay out?" asked the doctor.
"Very often till the lamps are lighted," was the answer.
"Have you asked him where he goes?"
"Why, yes," the mother replied; "and that's the strangest part of it all!
He seems so confused, and doesn't answer directly, but tries to talk about
something else.
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