“Dolly!” The name awoke some recollection of the past in Erica, and, as she kissed the little girl, she looked at her closely. Yes, it was the same fascinating little baby face, with its soft, pink cheeks and little pointed chin, its innocent, blue-gray eyes, its tiny, sweet-tempered mouth. The sunny brown hair was longer and Dolly was an inch or two taller, but she was undoubtedly the same.
“Now I know why I always felt that I knew your face!” exclaimed Erica, turning to Donovan. “Was not Dolly lost at Codrington last year?”
“On the beach,” replied Donovan. “Yes! Why, could it have been you who brought her back? Of course it was! Now it all comes back to me. I had exactly the same feeling about knowing your face the other evening at Lady Caroline's, but put it down to your likeness to Mr. Raeburn. There is another bond between us.”
They both laughed. Donovan took Dolly upon his knee.
“Do you remember, Dolly, when you were lost on the beach once?”
“Yes,” said Dolly, promptly, “I clied.”
“Who found you?”
“Farver,” said Dolly.
“Who brought you to father?”
Dolly searched her memory.