three years ago, when her husband was well, and the family lived very
comfortably on Thirty-third Street. She sighed as she thought how
different it was now. Mr. Brooks would never be able to work any more;
they hardly had food enough to eat, and poor Maria had lost her
eyesight.

"Here we are, little Katie," said she.

But the child did not wait to be helped out; she danced down the steps,
and would have flown across the street, if Mrs. Brooks had not caught
her.

"I see it--I see it; my auntie's house. But there isn't nobody to it."

The man who met them at the door was so surprised and delighted to see
Fly, that he forgot his manners, and did not ask Mrs. Brooks in.

"Bless us, the baby's found!" cried he, and ran to spread the news.

Aunt Madge was walking the parlor floor, and Horace sitting on the sofa,
as rigid as the marble elf Puck, just over his head. Prudy and Dotty had
joined hands, and were crying softly on the rug. As the police had been
notified of Fly's loss, all the family had to do was to wait. A servant
was at the nearest telegraph office, with a horse and carriage, and at
the first tidings would drive home and report.

The words "The baby's found" rang through the house like a peal of
bells. In an instant Flyaway Runaway was clasped in everybody's arms,
and wet with everybody's tears.