in a flash.

Before the steps stood the carriage from the hotel, and from within it
five white, frightened little faces looked anxiously out.

Patricia made straight for the youngest one, a two-year-old girl. "You
poor baby!" she cried, softly.

Heedless, impulsive, Patricia had at least the gift of winning her way
right to a child's heart; and without a moment's hesitation the child
put a pair of clinging little arms about her neck.

She and Nell took the five into the warm, bright sitting-room, where
they took off hats and coats and gently rubbed the cold little hands.
"Why, you're not much more than babies, any of you!" Patricia glanced
pityingly from one to another of her protégés.

"I'm seven," the oldest answered. "I'm Norma Howard; she's my little
sister Totty." She pointed to the baby on Patricia's lap. "She keeps
crying for Mama--Mama was hurt," Norma hid her face against Patricia.

Patricia slipped an arm about her. "I shouldn't wonder if my Daddy were
looking after her right now. He's the best doctor in the whole world!"
She turned to the two little boys, staring up at her from the depths of
the doctor's big chair: "And are you brothers?"

"No'm," the larger one responded; "we've only just 'come 'quainted. He's
only five; I'm five 'an half. I'm Archibald Sears; his name's Tommy--I
want my mother!"