“Mabel,” said Mr. Bright to the young girl, who was cowering at one end of the hall, “get your things and come at once.  We will wait for you.  As for you,” turning to Miss Brant, “if you try to stop her, you will soon find yourself in a most unpleasant position.  I am certain that if you think back for an instant you will realize that you have forfeited all right to object.”

For a moment Miss Brant stood speechless with anger, then in her wrath she poured forth such a flood of abuse that the rescue party stared in amazement.  Never had they seen such an exhibition of temper.  When Mabel appeared, her shabby hat in her hand, Miss Brant reached forward and tore the hat from her.

“Don’t you dare leave my house with any of my property, you baggage,” she hissed.  “I paid for that hat and for the clothes you’re wearing, and you’ll send every stitch you’ve on back to me, or I’ll have you arrested for stealing.”

[Illustration:  “Don’t You Dare Leave This House With My Property.”]

“Come on, Mabel,” said Grace, putting her arm around the shrinking little figure.  “Don’t pay any attention to her.  She isn’t worth bothering over.  You can send her back her ridiculous things.  You are going to be happy now, and forget all about this cruel, terrible woman.”

“You brazen imp, you,” screamed the woman, and rushed at Grace, who stood perfectly still, looking the angry woman in the face with such open scorn in her gray eyes that Miss Brant drew back and stood scowling at her, her hands working convulsively.

“Come, girls,” said Mr. Bright.  “We have no more time to waste.  If you have anything to say to me, Miss Brant, you can always find me at my office on East Main Street.  The clothing now worn by Miss Mabel will be returned to you in due season.  Good afternoon.”

Mr. Bright, bowing politely, motioned to the three young girls to precede him, and the party went quietly down the walk, leaving Miss Brant in the open door, shaking her fist and uttering dire threats.

As for Mabel, she collapsed utterly, crying as though her heart would break.  Grace and Jessica exerted every effort to quiet her sobs, and after a little she looked up, and, smiling through her tears, said brokenly:  “I can’t believe that it’s all true—­that I shall never have to go back there again.  I’m afraid that it’s all a dream and that I’ll wake up and find her standing over me.  Can she get me again?” she said, turning piteously to Mr. Bright.

“My dear little girl,” he said, taking her hand, “she can’t touch you.  I’ll adopt you myself before I’ll let you go back to her.  Now run along with Jessica and forget all about what has passed.  Good-bye, Grace.  You see, your rescue party proved a success.  Good-bye, daughter.  Take good care of Mabel.  I’ll have to hurry now, or miss my appointment.”

Mr. Bright beamed on the three girls, raised his hat and hurried down the street, leaving them to proceed slowly toward Jessica’s home.  Passersby glanced curiously at the hatless, shabby young girl, as she walked between Grace and Jessica, clinging to their hands as though expecting every minute to be snatched from them.