They were not ten feet from the house, now—­hesitating, sick with dread.  Suddenly on the still air there was borne a sound that stopped them where they stood.  It was a voice—­Belle’s voice—­tired and somewhat low, but unmistakably Belle’s: 

    “Then i’ll go home, my crown to wear;
     for there’s a crown for me—­”

“Belle!” screamed Molly.  Somehow she had mounted the steps, crossed the porch, and was at the kitchen door.

Belle and Timothy were in the kitchen—­Timothy’s little bib tied about his neck, Timothy’s little person securely strapped in his high chair, and Timothy’s blue bowl, full of some miraculously preserved cereal, before him.  Belle was seated—­her arms resting heavily and wearily upon his tray, her dress stained to the armpits, her face colorless and marked by dark lines.  She turned and sprang up at the sound of voices and feet, and had only time for a weak smile before she fell quite senseless to the floor.  Timmy waved a welcoming spoon, and shouted lustily:  “Dere’s my muddy!”

Presently Belle was resting her head upon Joe’s big shoulder, and laughing and crying over the horrors of the night.  Timothy was in his mother’s arms, but Molly had a hand free for Belle’s hand and did not let it go through all the hour that followed.  Her arms might tighten about the delicious little form, her lips brush the tumbled little head—­but her eyes were all for Belle.

“It wasn’t so fierce,” said Belle.  “The water went highest at one; and we went to the porch and thought we’d have to swim for it—­ didn’t we, Timmy?  But it stayed still a long time, and it wasn’t raining, and I came in and set Timmy on the mantel—­my arms were so tired.  It’s real lucky we have a mantel, isn’t it?”

“You stood, and held Tim on the mantel:  that was it?” asked Jerry.

“Sure—­while we was waiting,” said Belle.  “I wouldn’t have minded anything, but the waiting was fierce.  Timmy was an angel!  He set there and I held him—­I don’t know—­a long time.  Then I seen that the water was going down again; I could tell by the book-case, and I begun to cry.  Timmy kept kissing me—­didn’t you, lover?” She laughed, with trembling lips and tearful eyes.  “We’ll have a fine time cleaning this house,” she broke off, trying to steady her voice; “it’s simply awful—­everything’s ruined!”

“We’ll clean it up for your marriage, Belle,” said Jerry, cheerfully, clearing his throat.  “Mrs. Tressady and I are going to start Mr. Rogers here in business—­”

“If you’d loan it to me at interest, sir-” Belle’s young man began hoarsely.  Belle laid her hand over Molly’s, her voice tender and comforting—­for Molly was weeping again.

“Don’t cry, Mis’ Tress’dy!  It’s all over now, and here we are safe and sound.  We’ve nothing to cry over.  Instead,” said Belle, solemnly, “we’d ought to be thanking God that there was a member of the family here to look out for Timmy, instead of just that hired governess and the Chinee boys!”