sha'n't have to go to America, shall I, mamma?" he said gaily, for
since he had given his word to go to find the lost Lili, he had often
thought with alarm of the long journey that he must take alone.

"No, dear child, we will all stay here together," said his mother, turning
towards the children with Dora's hand fast in hers; "Dora is the Lili you
were to seek, and we have found her."

"Oh, mamma," cried Paula, "Dora and I will be what you and her mother
were; we will carry out the verses. We will say:

"'But we still will hope forever
Now the halves have come together
No farther losses to deplore,
Our friendship prove as yours before.'"

"Oh yes, and ours," "me too," "so will I," and all the children joined in
promising eternal friendship with Dora. But the mother had taken her
husband's hand and had drawn him away down the shady walk.

"All right, I agree to it all," said Mr. Birkenfeld over and over again,
as his wife talked eagerly, while they walked back and forth. Presently
Mrs. Birkenfeld left him and crossed over to the next house. She asked for
Mrs. Ehrenreich, and now as they sat together by the window, she told Aunt
Ninette in words that came from her heart, with what delight she had
discovered that Dora was the daughter of her earliest and dearest friend;
that friend from whom she had been so long separated, but whose memory was
still green in her heart. She wanted to learn all that could be told of
her friend's life and death, but Aunt Ninette had little to tell. She had
never known Dora's mother; her brother had spent several years in America
where he had married, and his wife had died in Hamburg shortly after
Dora's birth. That was all she knew. Then Mrs. Birkenfeld went directly to
the point. She explained to Mrs. Ehrenreich how much she had enjoyed and
profited by, her long visits at her friend's father's house, and how
deeply she felt that she owed these kind friends a debt of gratitude which
she now saw an opportunity partly to repay, by doing what she could for
Dora. In short, if Aunt Ninette and her husband would consent, her most
fervent wish would be to take Dora and bring her up as her own child.

She met with none of the opposition which she had feared. Aunt Ninette
said frankly that Dora had not a cent of property, and that she would be
entirely dependent on her own work as a seamstress; as neither her aunt
nor her uncle could afford to spend anything on her farther edu