Josiah, hesitating.

"She is," replied the wife. The pair seemed to define each other's
meaning in spite of the vagueness of their words.

"But she's awful weakish," whispered the wife. "We got to get her
somewhere."

"Samanthy!" and the farmer's voice trembled, "mebby she the gal from
the asylum! She that escaped! Let's load her up on the cart and fetch
her home."

"You old skinflint! To cal'late on the half-dead girl," and she raised
Dorothy's head tenderly. "But all the same she got to get somewhere,
and ours is as near as any other house. Here, take hold," she put her
arms about the helpless form. "Mercy on us! Lucky if she don't die
before we get her there. Make that horse know he's to go. If that whip
won't do, yank up a tree and let him have it."

The farmer trembled visibly as he helped put poor Dorothy in the
wagon. If she could only have known!

The woman dragged off her apron and her jacket to make something of a
pillow for the pretty yellow head, that lay so still. Suddenly
Dorothy opened her eyes.

"As sure as you live," whispered Samanthy, "It _is_ that girl from the
san--sanitation! I saw her once out with the nurse, and this is her!"

"And there's a reward----"

"Shet up!" she snapped. "Lay still, dearie. You're awful weak and
we're taking you home."

"Home!" murmured Dorothy in a dazed way.

"Yes, to mommer and popper!" This from the farmer.

"Shet up, you, Josiah! How do you know she wants to go to them folks!
There, dearie, is your head hurt?"

Dorothy only moaned and closed her eyes again.

"Heven't you got a drop of anything? Not even a peppermint? I told you
not to eat them all at a gullup," growled the woman. "I never saw the
like of you fer gluttonin', Josiah!"

"And I never saw the beat of you fer growlin'. How do you feel,
missy?"

"Will--you--shet--up? Josiah Hobbs! Don't you see she's sleepin' like
a babe?"

"And do you think it's her? The one from the sanitation?"

"Shet up!"

"And there's a lot of money in that. Well, we need it."

Mrs. Samanthy Hobbs simply pulled the farmer's long shaggy beard that
bobbed up and down, goat fashion. Her "shet-ups" seemed exhausted.

Dorothy heard a little--she could hear the rumble of the wagon, and
she could feel the hard, rough, but kind hand of the woman who
smoothed her brow in a motherly way. That in itself was enough to make
her close her eyes and feel content.

What a power is the hand of woman! Even though it be harden