“Who—­who—­” gasped the woman, pointing at Mabel, then overcome sank into her chair, covering her face with her hands.

Grace sprang to her side in an instant, kneeling beside her chair.

“Mrs. Allison,” she cried impulsively.  “Forgive me.  I should not have startled you so.  I did not really know, although I felt sure that—­”

But Mrs. Allison had uncovered her face and was looking eagerly at Mabel, who stood the picture of mystification.

“Who is that young girl who bears the name of my baby, and where did she come from?” asked the patient hoarsely.

“Speak to her,” whispered Jessica, pushing Mabel forward.

“I am Mabel Isabel Allison—­” began Mabel, but before she could proceed further the woman had risen, and clasping the girl in her arms, began smoothing her hair and kissing her, laughing and crying hysterically.  “You are my baby girl that I lost long ago, my own little Mabel.  I know it.  I know it.”

“Mrs. Allison,” said Grace firmly, placing her arm around the sobbing woman, who seemed to have entirely lost control of her emotions, “try and be calm.  There is so much to tell.  Will you listen to me?  And you must sit down, you were not strong enough for this.  We should have waited.”

Mrs. Allison partially released Mabel from her embrace, though she still held her hand, and allowed Grace to gently push her back toward her chair.

“I don’t quite understand you, my dear,” she said brokenly.  “But I am sure that I have found my own dear little child.”

“And I am sure of it, too,” replied Grace.  “In fact, we have suspected it since the day we first saw you at the station.  We noticed the marked resemblance between you and Mabel, and when you told us your name was Allison we all felt that you might be Mabel’s mother.  Do you feel strong enough to hear our story and to tell us yours?”

“Tell me quickly,” exclaimed Mrs. Allison eagerly, recovering in a measure from her violent agitation.  “I must know the truth.  It seems incredible that I should find my lost baby girl alive and in good hands.  I am surely dreaming.  It cannot be true.  Yet she has the same sweet, serious expression in her brown eyes that she had in babyhood.  Even her middle name, Isabel, that her father insisted upon giving her because it is mine!”

Anne, dreading another outbreak, gently interposed.  “Try and be calm, Mrs. Allison, while we tell you about Mabel.”

Then Anne began with the winning of the freshman prize by Mabel at the close of her freshman year, and the interest she had aroused in the girl chums, and followed with the story of her adoption by the Phi Sigma Tau.

Mrs. Allison listened in rapt attention until Anne had finished.  “God is good,” she murmured.  “A higher power surely willed that Mabel should find true and worthy friends.”

Then she began questioning Mabel about her life in the orphanage.  Did Mabel have any recollection of the day she was brought there?  Had Mary Stevens, the attendant, ever described the clothing that she had worn when found?