They arrived too late to do anything, but in early morning they were on foot, breakfasting with the first relay of guests at the hotel, and inquiring their way along the broad tree-planted streets of the old Quaker city.

It was again at a photograph shop that they paused, but as they were looking for the number, the private door opened, and there issued from it a grey figure, with a black hat, and a bag in her hand.  She stood on the step, they on the side-walk.  She had a thin, worn, haggard face, a strange, grey look about it, but when the eyes met on either side there was not a moment’s doubt.

There was not much demonstration.  Caroline held out her hand, and Janet let hers be locked tight into it.  Jock took her bag from her, and they went two or three paces together as in a dream, till Jock spoke first.

“Where are we going?  Can we come back with you, Janet, or will you come to the hotel with us?”

“I was just leaving my rooms,” she said.  “I was on my way to the station.”

“You will come with me,” said Caroline under her breath; and Janet passively let herself be led along, her mother unconsciously holding her painfully fast.

So they reached the hotel, and then Jock said, “I shall go and read the papers; send a message for me if you want me.  You had rather be left to yourselves.”

The mother knew not how she reached her bedroom, but once there, and with the door locked, she turned with open arms.  “Oh!  Janet, one kiss!” and Janet slid down on the floor before her, hiding her face in her dress and sobbing, “Oh! mother, mother, I am not worthy of this!”

Then Caroline flung herself down by her, and gathered her into her arms, and Janet rested her head on her shoulder for some seconds, each sensible of little save absolute content.

“And you have come all this way for me?” whispered Janet, at last raising her head to gaze at the face.

“I did so long after you!  My poor, poor child, how you have suffered,” said Caroline, drawing through her fingers the thin, worn, bony, hard-worked hand.

“I deserved a thousand times more,” said Janet.  “But it seems all gone since I see you, mother.  And if you forgive, I can hope God forgives too.”

“My child, my child,” and as the strong embrace, and the kiss was on her brow, Janet lay still once more in the strange rest and relief.  “It is very strange,” she said.  “I thought the sight of you would wither me with shame, but somehow there’s no room for anything but happiness.”

Renewed caresses, for her mother was past speaking.

“And Lucas is with you?  Not Babie?”

“No, Babie is left with Mrs. Evelyn.”

“So poor little Elvira came safe home?”

“Yes, and is Mrs. Allen Brownlow.  Poor child, you rescued her from a sad fate.  She believed to the last you were coming with her, and she lost your note, or you would have heard from us sooner.”