The words “The baby’s found” rang through the house like a peal of bells.  In an instant Flyaway Runaway was clasped in everybody’s arms, and wet with everybody’s tears.

“Thought I’d come back,” said the little truant, peeping up at her agitated friends’ with some surprise; “thought I’d come back and get my skipt!”

Then they exclaimed, in chorus,—­

“Topknot shall have her skipt!  The blessed baby!  The darling old Fly!”

And Dotty wound up by saying,—­

“Why, you see, we thought you’s dead!”

Flyaway, who had at first been very much astonished at the fuss made over her, now looked deeply offended.

“Who said I’s dead?  What—­a—­drefful—­lie!”

“O, nobody said so, Fly; only we thought p’rhaps you was; and what would we do without you, you know?”

“Why, if I’s dead,” said Fly, untying her bonnet strings, “then the funy-yal would come round and take me; that’s all.”

“We are most grateful to you,” said Aunt Madge, turning to Mrs. Brooks, “for bringing home this lost child; but do tell us where you found her.”

Then Mrs. Brooks related all she knew of Fly’s wanderings, the little one putting in her own explanations.

“I didn’ be lost,” said she sharply.  “I feel jus’ like frettin’, when you say I’s lost.  ’Tis the truly truth; I’s walking on the streets, and a naughty woman, she’s got my hangerfiss—­had ashes roses on it.”

“Yes, I put some otto of rose on it this morning,” said Prudy.  “What a shame!”

“And I gave my flowers to the sick man.  He was on the bed, with a blue bed-kilt.  A girl name o’ Maria, tookened me home.  The seeingness is all gone out of her eyes, so she can’t see.”

“How long has your husband been sick?” asked Mrs. Allen of the woman, while she was taking lunch in the dining-room.  “Did you tell me he knew Colonel Allen?”

Mrs. Brooks dropped her knife and fork; but her lips trembled so she could not speak.  Flyaway, who sat in Horace’s lap, eating ginger-snaps, exclaimed, “She wants some perjerves, auntie.  She don’t get no perjerves, nor nuffin nice to her house.”

“’Sh!” whispered Horace.  The woman looked so respectable and well bred, that it seemed a great rudeness to allude to her poverty.

But Mrs. Brooks drank some water, and then answered Aunt Madge, calmly,—­

“I’m not ashamed of being poor, Mrs. Allen; it’s no disgrace, for there never was an honester man than my husband, nor none that worked harder, till a beam fell on him from the roof of a house, two years ago, and he lost the use of his limbs.—­Yes, ma’am; he did use to know your husband.  He was one of the workmen that helped build this house.  I came and looked on when he was setting these very doors.”

“What is his name?” asked Aunt Madge, looking very much interested, and taking out her note-book and pencil.  “What street and number?”