Maria, it's a woman standing out here with a child in
her arms! Why, what in the world can you want?" she cried, addressing
Dorothy.

"I thought I should see some one here whom I knew," faltered Dorothy.

"No; we are strangers here," replied the woman. "We have just moved into
this cottage to-day. We are from down country, my man and me, and my
girl Maria. We don't know any one hereabouts, so I can't direct you.
But, dear me! it's an uncanny time of night for a woman to be out. You
ought to be careful of your little baby, if you have no thought for
yourself, ma'am."

Dorothy tried to speak, but words seemed to fail her.

"But won't you come in and rest for a bit?" asked the woman, pityingly.
"I can't let you go away without at least warming yourself by the fire.
I am sitting up with my sick daughter."

Dorothy gladly accepted the kindly offer and entered.

Dorothy was about to tell the woman the story of how she had rescued the
little one, when it occurred to her that this would necessitate her
explaining how she herself had come to be in that locality at that hour,
and this she shrank from doing.

The woman was a stranger in the neighborhood, she argued to herself, and
would never know her again. Why not hold her peace? But, then, what
would she do with the little one that Fate had thrown so strangely upon
her mercy?

She quite believed that it did not belong to any one in the
neighborhood, nor had she heard of a little one like this. She saw that
the clothing upon it was of the daintiest texture, and the embroidery
upon it was of the finest.

"Oh, what a beautiful little baby!" cried the woman, her heart at once
warming toward the little stranger. "How much it looks like you!" she
added, turning to Dorothy.

"What!" cried the girl, in amazement.

"I said your baby looked like you," repeated the woman.

She wondered why the young girl flushed to the roots of her golden hair.

"We must go now," said Dorothy at length; "and I thank you, madame, for
your hospitality."

The woman, with clouded eyes, looked after the slender figure as it
disappeared.

"A lovely but very mysterious young woman!" she ejaculated. "I hope
everything is all right. She is so very young. It is a great pity for
the little child."

Meanwhile, Dorothy struggled on through the dim light of the fast dying
night, and soon found herself at the railway station without any seeming
volition of her own.

In her pocket was her purse, w