“A cooky won’t hurt the baby either,” decided Mr. Emerson, and he gave one to each of the children.

The Ethels had no chance to ask him what he meant to do without their discovery hearing them, so they helped the woman into the machine, put in the two children and climbed in themselves.  To their great interest Mr. Emerson turned the car about and headed it for his own home.

“I wonder what Grandmother will say,” murmured Ethel Brown to Ethel Blue, who was steadying the ill woman’s head as it lay against the back of the seat.

Ethel Blue lifted her eyebrows to indicate that she could not guess; but both girls knew in their hearts that Mrs. Emerson would do what was wisest and for the best good of the strays.  She came to the door in answer to the sound of the horn.

“How did you get back so soon?” she began to inquire of her husband when her eyes fell on the passengers in the car.

“An accident?” she asked anxiously as she ran down the steps.

“The girls found this woman and her child part way over here and I thought I’d better bring her on and get your opinion about her.  I think she’d like something to eat,” and the kind old gentleman smiled in friendly fashion as the woman opened frightened eyes at the sound of a new voice.

Among them they succeeded in getting her into the house and into a cool room, where she lay exhausted on the bed, her hand holding tight to the little hand of her baby, lying wearily beside her.

“Sunstroke?” asked Grandmother.

“Hunger,” replied Mr. Emerson, and he and Ethel Brown went down stairs at once in search of food, while Mrs. Emerson and Ethel Blue managed to undress their patient and put her into a fresh nightdress and bathe her face and hands.  By the time they had done this and were undressing the baby, Ethel Brown and Mrs. Emerson’s cook were at the door with jellied broth, milk, gruel and a cooling drink.

Ethel Blue fed the woman, spoonful by spoonful, and Ethel Brown gave the baby alternate spoonfuls of gruel and milk.

“Sleepy now?” asked Mrs. Emerson when the dark head sank back on the pillow.  “Take a nap, then.  See, the baby is right here where you can lay your hand on her.  We’ll look in now and then and just as soon as you wake up you must take some more food.”

“Must!” repeated the girl, for she was hardly older than Miss Merriam they saw when her hair was pushed back from her face.  “Must!  ’Tis glad I’ll be to be doing it!” and a ghost of a smile fluttered her lips.

Outside of the bedroom door Mrs. Emerson asked for an explanation and the others for her advice.

“I don’t see how we can tell what we can do until we pull her through this trouble and find out what the poor soul wants to do herself.”

“She said she came out from New York to look for work in the country.”

“Then we must find her work in the country.  But the first thing for us to attend to is to get her poor body into such a condition that she can work.  She’s a sweet looking young woman.  I’m glad you brought her home, Father,” and between Mr. and Mrs. Emerson there passed a smile of such understanding as makes beautiful the lives of people long and happily married.