“Doctor, look at my adopted child here. Can you say that you have never clapped eyes on her before?”
The physician scrutinised Peggy for a short time.
“The same hair and eyes,” he said, slowly.
“Was the child found in the well auburn-haired?” asked Fitzroy.
“Ye—es, or brown-auburn, I think.”
“Bare your right arm, Peggy.”
The child did so, and the doctor started as if he had seen a ghost.
“Why—God have mercy on us, Mr. Fitzroy, this is Maggie Wycliffe back from the grave!”
“Now,” said Fitzroy, “will you listen patiently to my story and hers?”
And he told the doctor all.