She pressed through the crowd of children, and made her way down among them to the landing below and out upon the street, looking this way and that, but could not see the child.  Then she returned to the upper rooms, but her search was in vain.  Remembering that Mrs. Paulding had called him by name, she sought for the missionary’s wife and made inquiry about him.

“Do you mean the little fellow I called Andy?” said Mrs. Paulding.

“Yes, that’s the one,” returned Edith.

“A beautiful boy, isn’t he?”

“Indeed he is.  I never saw such eyes in a child.  Who is he, Mrs. Paulding, and what is he doing here?  He cannot be the child of depraved or vicious parents.”

“I do not think he is.  But from whence he came no one knows.  He drifted in from some unknown land of sorrow to find shelter on our inhospitable coast.  I am sure that God, in his wise providence, sent him here, for his coming was the means of saving a poor debased man who is well worth the saving.”

Then she told in a few words the story of Andy’s appearance at Mr. Hall’s wretched hovel and the wonderful changes that followed—­how a degraded drunkard, seemingly beyond the reach of hope and help, had been led back to sobriety and a life of honest industry by the hand of a little child cast somehow adrift in the world, yet guarded and guided by Him who does not lose sight in his good providence of even a single sparrow.

“Who is this man, and where does he live?” asked Mr. Dinneford, who had been listening to Mrs. Paulding’s brief recital.

“His name is Andrew Hall,” was replied.

“Andrew Hall!” exclaimed Mr. Dinneford, with a start and a look of surprise.

“Yes, sir.  That is his name, and he is now living alone with the child of whom we have been speaking, not very far from here, but in a much better neighborhood.  He brought Andy around this morning to let him enjoy the day, and has come for him, no doubt, and taken him home.”

“Give me the street and number, if you please, Mr. Paulding,” said Mr. Dinneford, with much repressed excitement.  “We will go there at once,” he added, turning to his daughter.

Edith’s face had become pale, and her father felt her hand tremble as she laid it on his arm.

At this moment a man came up hurriedly to Mrs. Paulding, and said, with manifest concern,

“Have you seen Andy, ma’am?  I’ve been looking all over, but can’t find him.”

“He was here a little while ago,” answered the missionary’s wife.  “We were just speaking of him.  I thought you’d taken him home.”

“Mr. Hall!” said Edith’s father, in a tone of glad recognition, extending his hand at the same time.

“Mr. Dinneford!” The two men stood looking at each other, with shut lips and faces marked by intense feeling, each grasping tightly the other’s hand.

“It is going to be well with you once more, my dear old friend!” said Mr. Dinneford.