The old nurse disengaged one of her arms from
the tight clasp of the girl, reached up her hand until
she found the soft cheek, patted it gently for an
instant as a blind person might have done, and then
reassured, hid her face on Lucy's shoulder and burst
into tears. The joy of the surprise had almost
stopped her breath.

"No, baby, no," she murmured. "No, darlin',
I didn't. I was on the beach with Meg. No, no--
Oh, let me cry, darlin'. To think I've got you at
last. I wouldn't have gone away, darlin', but they
told me you wouldn't be here till dinner-time. Oh,
darlin', is it you? And it's all true, isn't it? and
ye've come back to me for good? Hug me close. Oh,
my baby bairn, my little one! Oh, you precious!"
and she nestled the girl's head on her bosom, smoothing
her cheek as she crooned on, the tears running
down her cheeks.

Before the girl could reply there came a voice
calling from the house: "Isn't she fine, Martha?"
A woman above the middle height, young and of
slender figure, dressed in a simple gray gown and
without her hat, was stepping from the front porch
to meet them.

"Too fine, Miss Jane, for her old Martha," the
nurse called back. "I've got to love her all over
again. Oh, but I'm that happy I could burst meself