A little crowd had collected around the door of one of the cottages, and as Mr. Marshall walked toward them the girls looked after him with eyes that were frankly curious.

“I remember coming up here with Aunt Mary the day before Christmas,” said Ruth.  “And she left a Christmas basket at this very same brown house, if I’m not mistaken.  Yes, I’m sure of it, and there were five or six children in the family.  Oh, I hope they all got out safely.”

“Lucky that it was early in the evening,” observed Charlotte, stamping her feet to get some warmth into them.  “I can’t stay much longer, girls; I’m so cold that—­”

“Here comes Mr. Marshall,” interrupted Betty eagerly.  “Wait a minute, Char, and we’ll all go.”

Mr. Marshall, who had been inside one of the houses, came toward them with something clasped in his arms, and as he drew near they could see that it was apparently a baby rolled in a heavy shawl.  The child had put both arms around his neck and was hiding her eyes on his shoulder when he reached the little group.  He looked very grave, and the girlish faces grew sober in sympathy even before he spoke.

“Oh, father, is the baby hurt?” asked Dorothy anxiously.

“Not injured, dear, but left very much alone.  She is a little German girl, and she and her mother had only been here a few days.  The mother wanted to get work in the factory, and had taken a room for herself and the baby with the German family which lived in the brown house.  Every one got out safely, but the excitement was too much for the poor young mother.  She must have had a weak heart, I’m afraid, for she had to go away and leave her baby.”

Ruth’s eyes filled with tears as she realized what he meant, and she stretched out her arms impulsively toward the baby.

“Poor little soul,” she said with a choke in her voice; “is she old enough to know what happened?”

As she spoke the baby raised her head and stared in startled wonder at the pitying faces about her.  The shawl fell back a little from her head, and, in the brilliant light from the fire, the girls could see golden rings of hair clustering around a face delicately pink and white.  The big brown eyes gazed at them for a moment, then with a little sob she buried her head on Mr. Marshall’s shoulder again.

“I must look like some one she has known,” he said softly, as he wrapped the shawl closely around her, “for the minute she saw me she held out her arms to me, and no one could get her away.  These poor people around here have enough to look out for over night, so I’ll take this baby home.  Do you think you can help take care of her for a while, daughter?”

“Oh, yes, I’d love to,” assented Dolly eagerly.  “I wish she’d let me take her,” but for the present, at least, the sorrowful baby refused to leave her safe resting-place, and only clung more tightly to Mr. Marshall when the girls tried to beguile her.