,
Helen, and go tell your mother what we have found. Then ask your father
to bring you around to my house in the car. You, Minnie, slip out the
back door and meet me outside. Don't say one word until we see who this
child is. I don't see why they have not reported her if it is Rosanna.
She must have been asked to tell her name, and Rosanna is not grown up
enough to think of making up a name for the occasion. Besides she would
be glad to come home. If it is Rosanna--let me hurry!"

One by one they carefully left the house. It was late, and Mrs. Horton
seemed to be dozing. Telling the cook to put off getting dinner until
Mrs. Horton had rested, Minnie slipped out, and reached Mrs. Hargrave's
house just as the car drove up. Mrs. Hargrave came briskly trotting
along the walk a moment later and was helped in.

"It is a good thing that I am a trustee and director over at that
hospital," she remarked, "so they won't try to fuss about our seeing the
child, whoever she is. If it is only Rosanna--"

It was a swift ride. Every heart was beating quickly. If it was only
Rosanna!

Entering the hospital, Mrs. Hargrave went to the superintendent's
office, where a firm, stern looking woman met them.

"A child was hurt by an automobile last night and brought here," she
said briefly.

Mrs. Hargrave interrupted her. "I want to see her," she said.

"It is not the Horton child, if that is what you mean," said the
superintendent. "This was a short-haired child in a very ordinary dress.
She was struck on the head and was unconscious for hours. We are
surprised that no inquiry has been made."

"I am making one now," said Mrs. Hargrave crisply. "I said I wanted to
_see_ this child."

"You know it is against the rules, Mrs. Hargrave," the superintendent
objected.

"Fiddle-dee-dee!" said Mrs. Hargrave. "What ward is she in?"

The superintendent gave up. She had known that she would. Mrs. Hargrave
always had her own way. She led them down to the elevator, where they
waited and waited with what patience they could gather until the car
came slowly down and took them up to the general wards.

They tiptoed in. The little girl was bandaged and pale and sleeping
heavily; but oh, joy of joys, it _was_ Rosanna!

CHAPTER XVIII

"And it was just like a fairy story," said Helen, telling her mother
about it afterwards, "because even while the nurse was telling how the
little girl had not spoken a word, or even looked at anybody, Rosan