home safe, and the
other," I gulped, "to ask about a paper with some notes that I'd pinned
to her skirt."

She shook her head.

It was in that very minute that I noticed the baby's ribbons were pink;
they had been blue in the morning.

"Of course," I suggested, "you've had her clothes changed and--"

"Why, yes, of course," said baby's mother. "The first thing I did when
I got hold of her was to strip her and put her in a tub; the second,
was to discharge that gossiping nurse for letting her out of her sight."

"And the soiled things she had on--the dress with the blue ribbons?"

"I'll find out," she said.

She rang for the maid and gave her an order.

"Was it a valuable paper?" she asked.

"Not--very," I stammered. My tongue was thick with hope and dread.
"Just--my notes, you know, but I do need them. I couldn't carry the
baby easily, so I pinned them on her skirt, thinking--thinking--"

The maid came in and dumped a little heap of white before me. I fell on
my knees.

Oh, yes, I prayed all right, but I searched, too. And there it was.

What I said to that woman I don't know even now. I flew out through
the hall and down the steps and--

And there Kitty Wilson corralled me.

"Say, where's that stick-pin?" she cried.

"Here!--here, you darling!" I said, pressing it into her hand. "And,
Kitty, whenever you feel like swiping another purse--just don't do it.
It doesn't pay. Just you come down to the Vaudeville and ask for Nance
Olden some day, and I'll tell you why."

"Gee!" said Kitty, impressed. "Shall--shall I call ye a hansom, lady?"

Should she! The blessed inspiration of her!

I got into the wagon and we drove down street--to the Vaudeville.

I burst in past the stage doorkeeper, amazed to see me, and rushed into
Fred Obermuller's office.

"There!" I cried, throwing that awful paper on the desk before him.
"Now cinch 'em, Fred Obermuller, as they cinched you. It'll be the
holiest blackmail that ever--oh, and will you pay for the hansom?"

XVI.

I don't remember much about the first part of the lunch. I was so
hungry I wanted to eat everything in sight, and so happy that I
couldn't eat a thing.

But Mr. O. kept piling the things on my plate, and each time I began
to talk he'd say: "Not now--wait till you're rested, and not quite so
famished."

I laughed.

"Do I eat as though I was starved?"

"You--you look tired, Nance."

"Well," I said slowly, "it's been a hard week."