Amy's voice faltered.

"Why?" Betty wanted to know.

"Because, by the merest accident, I found the other day, a piece of
paper in--in Mr. Stonington's desk. I had read it before I realized it
and it intimated that a mistake had been made in assuming that the
envelope pinned on my dress, when I was rescued from the flood, was
really intended to be on me. In that case Mr. and Mrs. Stonington would
be no relation to me."

"But if the envelope with their names and address on it was found on
you, why shouldn't it refer to you?" asked Mollie.

"Because there were _two_ babies rescued in that flood."

"Two babies?" It was a general chorus of surprise from the three girls.

"Yes. I was one. There was another. A man saved both of us, and set us
on an improvised raft. He found the envelope lying loose near us, and as
it was nearer to me he pinned it on my dress, assuming that it had come
from my sleeve. But it may have been on the other baby."

"How did this become known?" asked Grace.

"Through this man. It seems that some newspaper reporter, on the
anniversary of the flood in Rocky Ford--that's where I was found--this
reporter wrote up the former incidents about it. He interviewed several
who had made rescues, and this man was one. He told of having found two
babies, and one paper. I know Mr. and Mrs. Stonington, who read this
account, must have had their doubts about me raised anew, for I
overheard them talking very earnestly about it."

"Poor Amy!" sighed Grace.

"Yes, it's dreadful not to know who you are," said Amy, with a rather
cheerless smile. "But I am getting used to it now. It did hurt, though,
to hear what Alice said about it that day."

"I should think so--the mean thing!" snapped Mollie, her quick temper on
the verge of rising.

"But I know, no matter what happens, that Mr. and Mrs. Stonington will
always care for me," Amy went on. "If it were not for that I don't know
what I'd do. Now let's talk of something else--something more pleasant."

"Oh, this isn't unpleasant for us!" Betty hastened to assure her chum.
"Only of course we know how you must feel about it. If we could only
help you in some way!"

"I'm afraid you can't," said Amy softly. "It's good of you, though."

"It's like one of those queer puzzle stories, that end with a bump, in
the middle, and leave you guessing--like 'The Lady or the Tiger,'"
asserted Mollie. "I can't bear them. I get to thinking of the solution
in the night and it s