Then Deacon Winslow once more rose to his feet.  His face was fairly radiant, as was that of his wife.

“I believe I can understand how this comes about,” he was saying, just as if he might have had a revelation as he prayed there.  “It is no accident, but the hand of a special Providence.  Our petitions have been heard, and this is the answer; so the last few years of our lives may be made happy by the sight of our own flesh and blood.  My poor service has come up as a memorial before Heaven.  And let us hope that tomorrow, when that poor girl comes into her senses again, she will be able to tell us all of the wonderful story.”

“There is one thing I should have mentioned, sir, which slipped my mind,” Hugh went on to say just then.  “Always in her delirium she seems to be pleading with someone not to deny her a place under his family roof with her little Joey.  And it is to an imaginary grandfather she is appealing, so pathetically that I have seen my mother crying time and again, for very sympathy.”

“A grandfather, and cruel at that!” said the old man, shaking his head, while the tears rolled unheeded down his furrowed cheeks.  “At least, that does not apply to me.  She will learn presently that we stand ready to take her into our hearts and home as our own.  Oh! it seems too good to be true, this blessing that has come to us to-night.  And, Hugh Morgan, you must always be associated in our minds with this realization of our utmost hopes, which of late years we have not even dared whisper to each other.”

He wrung the boy’s hand until Hugh almost writhed under the pressure; while the happy “grandma” continued to devour the plump, rosy-cheeked face of her charge with her eyes, as though she could not tear her gaze away.

Long they continued to sit there and talk, always upon that one subject, because everything else must be subordinated to the wonderful revelation that had come to them, to prove that truth is often stranger than fiction.

Three times did Hugh suggest that he had better be heading towards home:  but they pleaded with him to stay “just a little longer”; for their starved hearts found it hard to let the newly found treasure out of sight, even for a short time.

“But I must really be going,” Hugh finally told them.  “It is now after ten, and mother will be worrying about the child, not knowing, of course, that he has found a new protector, two of them, in fact.  You can both come over after breakfast in the morning, and visit the boy.  If his mother has regained her senses, and the doctor permits it, you will be able to settle the matter once and for all by seeing her.”

So with that they had to rest content.  The child was bundled up warmly, and tenderly placed in the sleigh by his huge grandfather, after the old lady had kissed his forehead and cheeks a dozen times.

Then they were off, and shortly afterwards arrived at the Morgan home.  Deacon Winslow insisted on carrying the tiny chap indoors; after which he hastened back, to sit up most of the night with his wife, talking of the wonderful thing that had come to bless them in their old age.