In a moment, quiet had taken flight, and a game of hide and seek was in full swing. Rings had played this game since puppy days, he knew all the best hiding places, and he knew just how long to search before discoveries were in order. Gravely he walked about poking his nose into possible covers and then away he dashed to the goal amid peals of laughter. Jeanie dropped her sewing to enjoy the sport.
Father, entering the house with the doctor remarked: “We are evidently just in time for the fun.” They joined the players in the upper hall and away they all streamed to the play room with Rings in hot pursuit.
Racing through the school-room, they swept the little German music master off his feet. But he had not forgotten his boy days and, dropping hat and gloves, was after them. Timothy, guide, philosopher and friend, and incidentally manager of the estate, coming in from the greenhouse with flowers, deposited his precious burden in the arms of a maid, and took the stairs in leaps. Timothy had assisted in the merriment ever since Dorothy could ride on his shoulder, holding fast to his curly hair. The frolic spread all over the house.
Lois was found hiding behind a stately footman. The doctor was dragged by Rings from under the dining-room table. Father stowed himself on the top shelf of the linen press, nearly causing Rings to turn himself inside out in his effort to get at him. Timothy lost himself in a cubby-hole in the attic and had to be rescued, for the door had no inside latch. The fun was brought to a breathless climax, when Bridgie, the cook, hid Dorothy in a great boiler and no one could find her. * * *
The doctor looked wistfully after Jeanie as she went up the wide stairs with a dancing child clinging to either hand. “That is a pretty picture,” he said to Mr. Douglas; “you should be a happy man, for you have caused some sorrowing ones to rejoice. Jeanie, now—it is ten years, is it not? I thought that night you called me to come quickly, I had never seen a face so sad. Jeanie is all that is noble, God bless her!”
“Yes,” said Mr. Douglas, “think what she has been to us. My wife, Stella, talked to her by the hour before Dorothy was born, told her all her plans, hopes and fears. It was Stella who insisted that the old tradition of the Christmas Candle had a great significance, ‘the light could guide no ill to us.’”
“Yes, we have been privileged to dry some of the tears, open the blinds for a few so that the sunlight might come in. But think of the blessing brought to us. Look at Timothy, and Bridgie; could money buy the influence that is thrown about Dorothy? When I think of all they do for me and mine, I feel that I have done very little.”
“How about that little Lois?” asked the doctor.
“She is another blessing. Jeanie came upon the child in the city (living with a Mrs. MacDonald, who did fine sewing) and in time learned her story. It seems that Mrs. MacDonald’s brother, who was a sailor on the steamship M—— (lost about six years ago, you remember), rescued this child. The passengers were picked up by several vessels and widely separated. This sailor took the child at first to a sister in Scotland and afterwards to America in his search for her parents. He made every effort to find them, but grew discouraged as time went on and he found no clue. Mrs. MacDonald felt that the child should have advantages they could not give, and they were sorely troubled.
“They called her Lois, because of the initials L. O. I. S. on a handkerchief bound around the little wrist. It was the only mark about her, except the beautiful clothing.