"My Yosie, it is my Yosie!" declared the Angel, with one of her little bursts of baby rage, pulling away from Norma and stamping her foot, frantic that any doubt should exist.
At this point, Mrs. O'Malligan, who had been following in her comfortable fashion, unconscious of any excitement, drew near. Suddenly there was an excited cry from that lady. "Howly Mither, an' it's Mrs. Buckley's own sister, Rosy O'Brien, fer sure!"
The wild eyes of the sick girl turned towards Mrs. O'Malligan with signs of recognition. The doctor repeated his story.
"She must have been Angel's nurse," said Miss Stannard.
"An' was it the darlint's nurse ye war, Rosy O'Brien?" inquired Mrs. O'Malligan.
"Yes," signalled the eyelids, whereupon Mrs. O'Malligan, swaying her body to and fro, and clapping her hands, burst forth suddenly, "I say through wid it all, I say through wid it all! Ye brought the Angel choild to the Tiniment wid ye to say your sister, now, didn't ye, Rosy, me jewel?"
The good Irish lady waited for the affirmative droop from the eager eyes.
"An' maybe ye found the door locked, an' not knowin' yer sister had moved away an' Miss Johnson, what goes to the car stables a-cleanin' by the day, livin' in her room now, ye set the choild down in the empty room a-nixt to it, an' run down to ask me as to whir yer sister had gone, now, didn't ye, Rosy O'Brien?" and Mrs. O'Malligan's garlanded bonnet fell over one ear in the good soul's excitement.
Thus far apparently she was right.
"An' I wasn't to home, for sure I niver seen ye," ventured Mrs. O'Malligan, her hands now on her hips as she gazed at the girl and pondered.