t all, but cuddled into her father's arm, and now
and then drew long, deep sighs, as if still troubled.

But he only held her closer, and murmured words of endearment, leaving
her undisturbed by questions about her strange conduct.

In Newark they telephoned the joyful news to Mrs. Maynard, and then took
the first train to Seacote.

All through the two-hour ride, Marjorie slept peacefully, with her
father's arm protectingly round her.

The two men said little, being too thankful that their quest was
successfully ended.

"But I think her mind is all right," whispered Mr. Maynard, as Mr.
Bryant leaned over from the seat behind. "She has some kind of a crazy
notion in her head,--but when she's thoroughly rested and wide awake, we
can straighten it all out."

The Maynards' motor was waiting at Seacote station, and after a few
moments' ride, Marjorie was again in the presence of her own dear
people.

"Mother, _Mother_!" she cried, in a strange, uncertain voice, and flew
to the outstretched arms awaiting her.

Though unnerved herself, Mrs. Maynard clasped her daughter close and
soothed the poor, quivering child.

"_Are_ you my mother?" wailed Marjorie, in agonized tones; "_are_ you?"

"Yes, my child, _yes_!" and there was no doubting that mother-voice.

"Then why,--_why_ did you tell Mrs. Corey I was a findling?"

"Tell Mrs. Corey _what_?"

"Why, when I was practising, you were talking to her, and I heard you
tell her that you took me from an asylum when I was a baby,--and that I
didn't really belong to you and Father?"

"Oh, Marjorie! Oh, my baby!" and dropping into the nearest armchair,
with Marjorie in her lap, Mrs. Maynard laughed and cried together.

"Oh, Ed," she exclaimed, looking at her husband, "it's those
theatricals! Listen, Marjorie, darling. Our Dramatic Club is going to
give a play called 'The Stepmother,' and Mrs. Corey and I were learning
our parts. That's what you heard!"

"Truly, mother?"

"Truly, of course, you little goosie-girl! And so you ran away?"

"Yes; I couldn't stay here if I wasn't your little girl,--and
Father's,--and King's sister,--and all. And you said I was different
from your own children and,----"

"There, there, darling, it's all right now. And we'll hear the rest of
your story to-morrow. Now, we're going to have some supper, and then
tuck you in your own little bed where you belong. Have you had your
supper?"

"No,--but I set the table," and Marjorie began to smi