nt, near Westminster. Mother Agnes
scarcely knew herself, her heart seemed bursting.

It was the old story of the one lost sheep becoming all in all to the
shepherd. The days had seemed months since poor Kate was missed, and
this first news of a girl who might possibly turn out to be Kate, had
made Mother Agnes hurry up to town by the night train, quite forgetting
that she could not disturb St. Thomas' Hospital with inquiries at such
an early hour. So she paced feverishly up and down by the river-side,
thinking. It did seem just what she could imagine Kate doing, rushing
across the road to save a little child about the age of Frances from
being run over, and both children, whoever they might be, were knocked
down by the passing omnibus. They were much injured, and were
accordingly carried to St. Thomas' Hospital. The younger child was
soon identified through her own statements, but the elder one remained
long unconscious. Her dress was very ragged, but her underclothing
bore the stamp of some institution.

Mother Agnes went over in her mind every word of the short report she
had received, again and again.

How strange London looked at this early hour! She scarcely knew it in
the dim grey light, with hardly a sound in the streets, and there
floated into her mind lines of Wordsworth's, written from this very
spot at this very hour, three-quarters of a century ago--

"Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep,
And all that mighty heart is lying still!"

But was it all so still? What of the sick in the hospitals,
constrained to watch and bear the world's burdens through the long
hours of darkness. Oh, if she could only pierce those great walls and
stand by the bed-side of the poor girl of whom her thoughts were now so
full!

* * * * * *

Even the children's ward in St. Thomas' Hospital looked strange and
un-home-like in that dim grey light. It was nearly silent too, except
for occasional little moans, coming from little beds. But from one bed
there came something besides a moan: a childish voice half whispered
the word "Kate."

"Yes, dear," came from the next bed, in a low voice, "what is it?"

"Do you feel better, dear Kate? and would my doll help you to bear the
pain?"

Kate smiled gently. "I do feel a little better; and I am getting
rather big for a doll. But tell me, what