It was a long speech and it had sorely tried the speaker. One by one her guests withdrew, leaving only the “four” of whom she spoke with that faithful friend of all, the radiant Seth, remaining in that firelit room.
Then cried Dorothy, running to draw her foster-parents to her great-aunt’s side:
“Yes, father, yes mother! Come and be—us! I have a name at last and it still must be yours with ‘Calvert’ at the end, a hyphen between! Say yes, dear ones, who’ve loved me all my life. We want you, ‘Godmother’ and I, and don’t you dare—don’t either of you dare to be proud and independent now, when your little girl’s so happy—so happy!”
Who could withstand her? Or the sincere affection which beamed upon them from Mrs. Cecil’s fine old eyes? Not “whistling Johnnie” of the big heart, himself; nor faithful Martha, radiant now in the doing away of “mysteries” and the happiness of the girl who had been found a “squalling baby” on her doorstep.
So the night fell on Dorothy Calvert’s homecoming and home-finding. Once more she stood on the threshold of a new life. What befell her in it and what use she made of some of the great gifts which had come to her cannot be told here. That telling must be left for other pages and other hours; perhaps the reader will like to go with us to “Dorothy’s House party,” until then let us bid happy Dorothy a glad
Good night!
THE END
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors and ensure consistent usage of punctuation in this e-text; otherwise, every effort has been made to be faithful to the author's words and intent.