The child opened her eyes and gazed up into the kind, homely face.
“You look like daddy,” she said thoughtfully.
The housekeeper drew back with a start. “I—I must go see to—”
Nobody found out just what she was going to “see to,” for she was gone.
Soon a sweet, spicy odor floated into the ward, which caused the little folks to sniff delightedly and to wonder among themselves what was in store for them.
It was not long before Benedicta and the “superbondonjical” luncheon came in. On the tray were freshly baked oatmeal macaroons, little cooky girls with wide skirts, and glasses of creamy milk.
Rosalind smiled up at the housekeeper, and said again, “You do look like daddy!”
This time, however, Benedicta did not run away. Instead, she responded, “Do I?” and went on to tell of a little girl that was lost and who was finally restored to her friends because of her likeness to one of her sisters.
Polly, musing over this, wondered what relation Benedicta bore to the Wheatley family. Perhaps in time the truth would come out. It did come—and sooner than she had expected.
She awoke early one morning and went downstairs to find Benedicta in the midst of a big baking.