Faith thought first of going to Regent's Park, for Roy was so accustomed to visiting this park on fine Sunday mornings with his sister, that perhaps his little feet might guide him there unconsciously.  She forgot that at the time at which Roy had run out into the warm darkness of the autumn night, the park gates must have been shut.  She walked rapidly in this direction now, entered the pleasant and beautiful place, and walked towards the spot where she and Roy had been so happy on Sunday.  Yes, there was the wide-spreading oak-tree, there were the daisies still left that Roy had picked and thrown away the day before.  Faith stooped down now and picked up these withered flowers, and put them carefully into her pocket.  Roy's castaway flowers were there, but not Roy--not her precious little Roy himself.  Faith pressed her hands to her eyes, her heart was too heavy--too absolutely oppressed--for tears to come.  But she was puzzled to know what course now to pursue.  Faith was no common street child; though her father was only a carpenter, he was too steady, too respectable not always to obtain full employment and excellent pay, therefore the dire evils of poverty had never been experienced by little Faith.  With the exception of a great loneliness, and a great dearth of the holy love of fatherhood, her life had been sheltered from all the rough winds which blow upon the class a little below her own.  Had she been a common street child she would have known much better how to seek for Roy; as it was, she was puzzled.  Not finding him in the one place where it would be utterly impossible for him to be, she did not know where else to look.  Oh, if only she could discover the place where Jesus lived now, and ask Him to come and help her in her search!  Jesus, however, was far nearer to the little lonely girl than she had any idea of, and He now sent her unlooked-for assistance.