But the girl was not listening; her eyes were fixed upon the figure of a woman hurrying towards them.
“Who is it?” demanded Linda, excitedly, hopefully. Oh, if this should only prove to be the girl’s mother! “Do you recognize her?”
“Yes,” replied Amy, stepping back and clutching Linda’s arm. “It’s the Fish!”
At the same moment Linda too identified the woman who had come to her house that week to claim the young girl as her niece.
Mrs. Fishberry advanced triumphantly.
“I’m glad to find you here, Helen,” she said. “Though why you trust yourself with a person who almost killed you, is beyond me.”
“What do you mean?” demanded the girl, angrily.
“You know what I mean. And I have a witness, Miss Carlton, to prove that you—and not a car—knocked Helen down— But never mind that now. I have a picture of you, Helen, and here is your baptism certificate, and your mother’s Bible. Now will you come with me?”
“No! No!” cried the girl. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Mrs. Fishberry held out the Bible and the family album for Linda to examine. At the same time she grasped Amy firmly by the arm.