[Illustration:  Instantly Dorothy had her arms around the little girl]

The woman took Dorothy’s hands, and looked straight into her eyes.  Then, without a word, she turned and opened a narrow door, that seemed to run under a stairway.

“Nellie!” she called softly.

Dorothy’s heart felt as if a life was dependent upon those few moments.  What if it should not be the right one?

A child—­pale and wan, but with an inexpressibly sweet face—­stood before them.  She clung to the woman like a frightened little bird.

“They have good news for us, Nellie,” said the woman.  “This child is Nellie Burlock, only child of Miles Burlock.”

Instantly Dorothy had her arms around the little girl.

“To think we have really found you,” she tried to say, but the words choked for very joy in her throat.

“Have you any papers?” asked Squire Travers of the woman.

“Yes,” she answered, “and more than papers.  I took that child from her dying mother’s arms, and no threats nor promises of that villain Anderson have taken her from me.  She is all I have now—­my own darling has been spared the hardships we have to suffer.”

“But we will not take her from you,” said Squire Travers.  “I know something of your affairs.  Your husband is a printer out of work?  His name is Mooney?”

“Yes,” answered the woman sadly.

“Then how long will it take you to get ready to leave for Dalton?  Yourself, Nellie and Mr. Mooney?”

“Leave?” gasped the woman, “we have until to-morrow morning to get out of this place—­”

“Very well,” replied the squire, “then you can come with us promptly, for Major Dale will not rest until we get back.  Here, you two Dalton girls, don’t smother that child.  Save a kiss or two for those at home.  They will want to know Nellie, too,” and Dorothy looked from the little stranger’s face to smile at the jolly squire.

When the next afternoon train from the west pulled into Dalton there alighted from it a party that attracted the attention of all who chanced to be about the depot.  The little blue-eyed girl, Nellie Burlock, was very pale, but “wonderfully pretty” Tavia declared.  Mrs. Mooney had also that frightened, tired look, but her husband seemed to have left all Rochester behind him.  He was a first-class printer and was to work on Major Dale’s paper, and was not that a bright prospect for an ambitious man?

Dorothy brought Nellie in alone to the major, He raised his head to kiss his daughter, then he kissed the fatherless one—­a new light came into his eyes.

“Dorothy,” he murmured.  “My own Little Captain!  You have led us all to victory!  God bless you!”

Of course there were a hundred and one explanations to make, and many stories to tell besides.  Nellie Burlock told of her life with Mrs. Mooney, and of how she and the woman had been threatened more than once by Andrew Anderson.  To Mr. Mooney the affair was nothing but a mystery and he had not bothered his head much about it.