ever do I," he declared, "spite of
the reward, Samanthy. Don't she look like what our little 'un ought to
look like if--she grew to look?"

"You loon! How could you tell what she ought to have looked like when
her own mother never saw her try? Oh, Josiah," and the lines of
hardship melted into possibilities, "wouldn't it have been lovely--if
she did--live--to look!"

"'Tweren't your fault--nor mine, Samanthy. He knows, and mebby thet's
why He sent this 'un. Ain't she purty? And I don't care a durn about
the sanitarition folks. Of course--if we've found her--and they want
her----"

It was a strange sight. Those two wrinkled old faces peering into the
blossom that lay on that feather bed!

"Josiah Hobbs! You are an old loon! I can't see how you kin make out
that this is heaven-sent," and she brushed a fly from the white
forehead.

"Oh--yes--you--kin, Samanthy. Else why did you shoo thet fly?"

"Shet up! Do you want to rouse her?" and she went over, and pulled
down the green curtain with the pink rose border.

"Are you sartin thet--she's the one?"

"Didn't I say I seen her? Are there so many cornsilk heads around
here? Now, the question is----"

"Jest what I was a-thinkin': The question is----"

"We kin lock this room--and put the bars ag'in the shutters. But I
don't want to scare her."

"It's the best, though. We hev got to make it s'cure. I don't 'magine
she'll care fer awhile, any way. And then we kin tote her back to the
sanitation."

"Well, we'll see. Now, you sneak off and I'll tuck her in. Poor lamb!
To think that she's looney!"

"Ain't it a shame! If our'n was alive we wouldn't care if she could
think or not--we would think fer her--wouldn't we, Samanthy?"

"Mebby," she answered, giving the quilt a smoothing. "But there's no
tellin'. She might have run off----"

The remainder of the soliloquy was lost in the red and white quilt.

There Dorothy slept. The tin dipper of fresh water was on the wooden
chair at her side. The green curtain was drawn down to the very sill
of the window. The door was shut--and it was hooked on the outside.

How long she slept she could not by any means know, but certainly the
sun had sailed around to the window, that wore no curtain, and through
which the glint of a fading day cut in like a faithful friend to poor
Dorothy Dale.

She groped her way over to the door. It was bolted, and the windows
were securely fastened.

The awful truth forced itself into her fagge