"Ah!" She raised wet eyes to him. "You had your worries. You were doing more than your share. You had to meet the question of money. While I—"
He interrupted her. "We both thought we were doing our very best," he declared.
"We almost did our worst! Oh, what would it all have amounted to—what would anything have mattered—if we'd lost our little girl!"
The pink came rushing to Gwendolyn's cheeks. "Why, I wasn't lost at all!" she declared happily. "And, oh, it was so good to have my questions all answered, and understand so many things I didn't once—and to be where all the put-out lights go, and—and where soda-water comes from. And I was so glad to get rid of Thomas and Jane and Miss Royle, and—"
The hall-door opened. She checked herself to look that way. Someone was entering with a tray. It was a maid—a maid wearing a sugar-bowl cap.
Gwendolyn knew her instantly—that pretty face, as full and rosy as the face of the French doll, and framed by saucy wisps and curls as fair as Gwendolyn's own—and freckleless!
"Oh!" It was a low cry of delight.
The nurse smiled. She had a tray in one hand. On the tray was a blue bowl of something steaming hot. She set the tray down and came to the bed-side.
Gwendolyn's eyes were wide with wonder. "How—how—?" she began.
Her mother answered. "Jane called down to the Policeman, and he ran to the house on the corner."