“What great presence of mind,” said Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. “I should like to see the little girl, too.”
“Then let us step outside. My daughter did go to see them at once. The child’s mother was quite a lady but in most reduced circumstances; and she went again later, meaning to help them, but learned that the mother had died and the little girl had been taken away by friends, she was never able to find out where. If this is the child, I should like to do something for her.”
In the meantime, Jane and Christopher had rushed to the door of the car, their faces beaming with excitement and delight. The girl had transferred the baby she was carrying hurriedly to its mother and stood watching the door with an air of shy expectancy.
“Oh, Letty, Letty, to think that we have found you again!” exclaimed Jane, kissing her heartily, while Christopher capered about them in glee.
“Find me? Did you ever look for me?” asked the little girl, her face lighting up with pleasure.
“Why, of course we did,” answered Christopher. “Didn’t we say we’d come again? We got your address from the boarding-house at Willow Grove and we went to see you—but you had gone away.”
“We were so sorry for you,” whispered Jane, slipping her hand into Letty’s.
Poor Letty turned away to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. She was greatly changed, poor child, in those three years. Her face had lost all its pretty roundness and her eyes seemed too large for the rest of her face, they were so wide and sad.
“Have you been with the circus all this time?” asked Christopher with great interest.
“Yes,” she answered sadly. “There hasn’t seemed anything else to do. My—my brother Ben died too, last year,” she added with a little sob.