Mr. Hamilton and Betty’s older brothers stayed to make some arrangements for the poor family that had been turned out-of-doors, and, as by this time the fire was well under control, the spectators dispersed in various directions.  The girls and boys escorted Mr. Marshall and the baby home, and then left Ruth at her own door.

By the time she had finished telling Mrs. Hamilton and Arthur about the fire and the forlorn baby, Mr. Hamilton appeared and was at once besieged with questions.

“I wish you had been there, Mary,” he said to his wife; “you always seem to know how to make every one comfortable.  It is wonderful to me to see how good those people are to each other.  They were only too anxious to shelter that poor Schmidt family, in which there are six children, and I didn’t know whether we should ever get them peaceably divided up.  I tried to get more information about the baby’s mother; but no one seems to know anything except that she was called Mrs. Winter, and had lost her husband quite recently.”

“Was she a young woman?” asked Mrs. Hamilton.

“She looked hardly more than a girl as she lay there, and her face was so refined and sweet that I couldn’t help fancying that the early part of her life had been spent under very different conditions from these.”

“Didn’t the woman they lived with know anything more about them?” asked Ruth, much disappointed.

“Poor Mrs. Schmidt was so excited, and so anxious to see that her own brood was safe and to be well cared for, that she didn’t know much about anything else.  The poor little mother had only been with her a few days, and beyond the fact that she seemed very sad and had cried a great deal, and that the little one’s name was Elsa, she could tell me nothing.  Oh, she did say that the mother and baby looked very much alike, the same large, brown eyes, and the same fair complexion and fair hair.”

“The baby is a perfect little beauty,” said Ruth, “and I quite envy Dolly the fun of having her in the house.  I’m going over the first thing in the morning to see her.”

Fortunately the next day was Saturday, and one by one the girls dropped into Dorothy’s house to see the pretty baby.  Alice and Katharine, who hadn’t seen the fire the night before, had to hear the whole story from the other girls, and all were much impressed when Ruth happened to mention that Mr. Hamilton had thought the poor young mother looked better than her surroundings.

“I shouldn’t wonder a bit,” said Dorothy impressively.  “Everything about this baby was just as clean and sweet as could be.  Her mother must have taken her right out of bed, for she had nothing on but her little nightie when father brought her home.  Mother found some baby clothes of mine, and I had such fun dressing her this morning.”

“How old do you suppose she is?” asked Betty.

“Oh, I know.  Mrs. Schmidt told father last night that she was two years old,” answered Dorothy.