Ellen shook her head.

Just then Mrs. Zelotes Brewster came in with her black-and-white-checked shawl pinned around her gaunt old face, which had in it a strange softness and sweetness, which made Fanny look at her again, after the first glance, and not know why.

“We’ve got our blessing back again, mother,” said her son Andrew, in a broken voice.

“But she won’t eat her breakfast, now mother has gone and cooked it for her, so nice, too,” said Fanny, in a tone of confidence which she had never before used towards Mrs. Zelotes.

“You don’t feel sick, do you, Ellen?” asked her grandmother.

Ellen shook her head.  “No, ma’am,” said she.

“She says she don’t feel sick, and she ain’t hungry,” Andrew said, anxiously.

“I wonder if she would eat one of my new doughnuts.  I’ve got some real nice ones,” said a neighbor—­the stout woman from the next house, whose breadth of body seemed to symbolize a corresponding spiritual breadth of motherliness, as she stood there looking at the child who had been lost and was found.

“Don’t you want one of Aunty Wetherhed’s nice doughnuts?” asked Fanny.

“No; I thank you,” replied Ellen.  Eva started suddenly with an air of mysterious purpose, opened a door, ran down cellar, and returned with a tumbler of jelly, but Ellen shook her head even at that.

“Have you had your breakfast?” said Fanny.

Then Ellen was utterly quiet.  She did not speak; she made no sign or motion.  She sat still, looking straight before her.

“Don’t you hear, Ellen?” said Andrew.  “Have you had your breakfast this morning?”

“Tell Auntie Eva if you have had your breakfast,” Eva said.

Mrs. Zelotes Brewster spoke with more authority, and she went further.

“Tell grandmother if you have had your breakfast, and where you had it,” said she.

But Ellen was dumb and motionless.  They all looked at one another.  “Tell Aunty Wetherhed:  that’s a good girl,” said the stout woman.

“Where are those things she had when I first saw her?” asked Mrs. Zelotes, suddenly.  Eva went into the sitting-room, and fetched them out—­the bunch of pinks, the cup and saucer, and the doll.  Ellen’s eyes gave a quick look of love and delight at the doll.

“She had these, luggin’ along in her little arms, when I first caught sight of her comin’,” said Eva.

“Where did you get them, Ellen?” asked Fanny.  “Who gave them to you?”

Ellen was silent, with all their inquiring eyes fixed upon her face like a compelling battery.  “Where have you been, Ellen, all the time you have been gone?” asked Mrs. Zelotes.  “Now you have got back safe, you must tell us where you have been.”

Andrew stooped his head down to the child’s, and rubbed his rough cheek against her soft one, with his old facetious caress.  “Tell father where you’ve been,” he whispered.  Ellen gave him a little piteous glance, and her lip quivered, but she did not speak.