than can be taught from books--we have learned to help each other, and
to understand each other."

"Yes, I cannot imagine anything ever coming into our lives that would
keep us apart--even distance does not separate minds and hearts."

Tavia had finished her work now, and surprised Dorothy by neatly washing
out the dish towels.

Dorothy was ready to go now for it was getting close to the hour for
school.

"I must tell you something in confidence," said she, "father thinks he
has a clew to the little Burlock girl's whereabouts."

"Yes, and I thought the same thing when what do you suppose?--Aunt Mary
writes me that the woman--Mrs. Burlock--is dead!"

"Dead!" exclaimed Dorothy.

"Yes, and the society cannot now find her girl--she did have a
daughter."

"But surely, in a place like Rochester, they should be able to trace a
little girl," Dorothy insisted.

"They should be, but they were not. Aunt Mary wrote that the charitable
society had buried the woman, and when a young lady from the
organization went back to the rooms with the little girl she allowed her
to escape. That is, the young lady went out to buy something and when