y no one would refuse to acknowledge it!" exclaimed Miss Barbara.
"She seemed so terribly agitated and upset, she must have expected to
find some other baby, and have been disappointed."

"Disappointed!" sniffed Martha scornfully. "Aye, she was disappointed at
finding what she expected. Agitated and upset, no doubt, but the trouble
was, she knew the poor bairn only too well."

In spite of the publicity given by the newspapers, no friends turned up
to claim the little girl. Nobody seemed to recognize her, or was able to
supply the least clue to her parentage. It was impossible even to
ascertain at what station the woman, presumably her mother, had joined
the train. She was already settled in the corner when Miss Sherbourne
entered the compartment, and though a description of her was circulated,
none of the porters remembered noticing her particularly. All the
carriages had been full, and there had been several other women with
young children in the accident. Any luggage containing papers or
articles which might have led to her identification had been destroyed
in the fire. The baby's clothing was unmarked. Day after day passed, and
though many visits were paid and enquiries made, the result was
invariably the same, and in a short time popular interest, always
fleeting and fickle, died completely away.

After staying nearly a fortnight at the Red Lion Hotel, in the hope that
the missing relatives might come at last to the scene of the disaster,
Miss Sherbourne returned to her own home, taking with her the child
which so strange a chance had given into her charge. For some months
she still made an endeavour to establish its identity; she put
advertisements in the newspapers and enlisted the services of the
police, but all with no avail: and when a year had passed she realized
that her efforts seemed useless. Her friends urged her strongly to send
the little foundling to an orphanage, but by that time both she and
Martha had grown so fond of it that they could not bear the thought of a
parting.

"I'll adopt her as my niece, if you're willing to take your share of the
trouble, Martha," said Miss Barbara.

"Don't call it trouble," returned Martha. "The bairn's the very sunshine
of the house, and it would break my heart if she went."

"Very well; in future, she's mine. I shall name her Dorothy Greenfield,
because Dorothy means 'a gift of God', and it was at Greenfield that the
accident occurred. I feel that Fate flung he