177


BY    THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    SOUL

When  the  train  came,  Harry  thrust  a  bank-note  into
the  woman's  hand,  having  roused  her  with  considerable
difficulty,  and  she  stumbled  on  to  the  train  over  her
skirts  just  as  she  had  done  in  the  morning.
Harry  knew  the  conductor.  "Look  out  for  that
woman,"  he  called  out  to  him.  "She  found  my  little
girl  that  was  lost."

The  conductor  nodded  affably  as  the  train  rolled
out.
Wollaston  Lee  had  gone  home  when  the  others  de
scended  the  stairs  and  crossed  to  the  other  track.  When
Harry,  with  Evelyn  in  his  arms,  her  limp  little  legs
dangling,  and  Maria  and  Gladys,  were  on  their  way
home,  the  question,  which  he  in  his  confusion  had  not
thought  to  put  before,  came.
"Why,  Maria,  where  did  you  come  from?"  he  asked.
"From  New  York,"  replied  Maria,  meekly.
"Her  and  me  went  up  to  her  ma-in-law's  cousin's,  on
Forty-ninth  Street,  to  find  the  kid,"  Gladys  cut  in,
glibly,  "but  the  cousin  had  moved."

Harry  stared  at  them.  "Why,  how  happened  you  to
do  such  a  thing?"  he  asked.
"I  couldn't  wait  home  and  not  do  anything,"  Maria
sobbed,  nervously.
"Her  ma-in-law's  cousin  had  moved,"  said  Gladys.
"How  did  you  find  your  way?"

"I  had  been  there  before,"  sobbed  Maria.  She  felt
for  her  father's  hand,  and  grasped  it  with  a  meaning  of
trust  and  fear  which  he  did  not  understand.
"Well,  you  must  never  do  such  a  thing  again,  no
matter  what  happens,"  he  said,  and  held  the  poor  little
girl's  hand  firmly.  "Thank  God  father's  got  you  both
back  safe  and  sound."

Gladys  made  an  abrupt  departure  on  a  corner.
"Good-night,  M'ria!"  she  sung  out,  and  was  gone,  a
slim,  flying  figure  in  the  gloom.
