“Is she alive?”

“Aye, alive and without a scratch,” replied Hugh, deftly taking the hat from the head of the little sleeper and placing her in the outstretched arms.

“How thankful I am,” exclaimed Harvey, kissing the cold red cheeks over and over again, and pressing her to his heart; “yes—­she is well—­she was lost and is found—­she was dead and is alive again.”

“What are you laughing at?” demanded Hugh, wiping his eyes and glaring savagely at Jack Hansell, who, with open mouth, was looking on in a bewildered way; “haven’t you manners enough to know when gentlemen are present?”

Jack seemed to think that the only way to behave was by keeping his mouth closed.  He shut his jaws with a click like that of a steel trap and never said a word.

Harvey Bradley sat down on the stool from which he had arisen, first drawing it closer to the fire, and unfastened the outer clothing of the little one.  He saw that all was well with her.  Then he looked up with moistened eyes and said in a tremulous voice: 

“Hugh, tell me all about it.”

The short story was soon told.  The hardy fellow made light of what he had done, but the superintendent, who kept his eyes fixed on his face, saw the sparkle of tears that the speaker could not keep back.  It was hard for any one of the three to believe that only a brief while before they were ready to fly at each other’s throats.  Harvey was melted not only by the rescue of his sister, but by the remembrance of the dreadful injustice done Hugh O’Hara and his friends, when he allowed himself to think they had taken part in the disappearance of Dollie, who, through all the talk, continued sleeping.

“I can never thank you for what you have done,” said the superintendent, hardly able to master his emotion, “but I shall show you that the charge of ingratitude can never be laid at my door.”

“That’s all right,” replied Hugh, in his off-hand fashion; “Tom and I are glad to do a turn like that; nobody could want to see any harm come to such a child, no matter how they might feel toward others related to her.  Do you mean to take her home to-night?”

“Yes; her aunt is frantic with grief.”

“But Tom can run down there quicker than you can with the little one.”

“No doubt, but we shall feel better to have her with us.  She seems to be well, and we can bundle her up warmly.  There may, after all, be serious results from this exposure, and it is best that we should have her where we can give her every care.”

And drawing the hood from his pocket he fixed it upon Dollie’s head.  She opened her eyes for a moment and mumbled something, but sank into sleep again.  Harvey explained how it was he came to have the headgear with him.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Mr. Bradley,” said O’Hara, shifting from one foot to another and as confused as a school-boy.

“Anything that you ask shall be granted, if it be in my power to grant it,” replied Harvey with a fervor that could leave no doubt of his sincerity.