They stood looking down—­at the brown face and the little, tired lip and sleeping lids....  Their eyes met, and they smiled....  They knew—­these two, out of all the world—­they knew what it meant—­that the child was safe.

And out in the glowing dawn, the great car thundered home, and Betty Harris’s mother looked out with swift eyes.

“See, Phil—­the sun is up!” She reached out her hand.

“Sit still, Louie—­don’t tremble so—­” he said gently.  “She is safe now—­They have brought her home.  She’s there, you know, asleep.”  He spoke slowly—­as if to a child....  He was gathering up the morning in his heart—­this big, harsh, master of men—­his little girl was safe—­and a common Greek—­a man out of the streets—­peddling bananas and calling up and down—­had made his life worth living.  His big, tense mind gripped the fact—­and held it.  Something seemed speaking to him—­out of the east, over there, past the rushing car....  A common Greek....  He had flung his wealth and hammered hard—­but somehow this man had loved her—­his little girl!

“Phil—?” she said softly.

“Yes, dear?”

“Are we almost home?”

He looked out.  “Half an hour yet—­sit still, Louie—!” He held her hand close.  “Sit still!” he said—­and the miles slipped past.

“She is there—­Phil!  Yes?  They wouldn’t lie to me.  All these weeks!” she said softly.  “I don’t think I could bear it much longer, Phil!” The tears were on her cheeks, raining down and he put his rough face against her, adrift in a new world.

And over the great lake the sun burst out, on a flashing car—­and the door flung wide to Betty Harris’s mother, flying with swift, sure foot up the great, stone steps....  “This way, ma’am—­she’s in here—­her own room—­this way, ma’am.”

She was kneeling by the great canopied bed, her head bent very low.  The brown face trembled a breath... the child put up a hand in her dream, “Mother-dear!” she said—­and dreamed on....

THE END