"Jonathan Darling? Who may he be?"
"He's as honest a fellow, Fortune, as you can find in the whole of Madersley—he drives a milk cart. He found the two little dears three mornings ago, wandering about in their circus dresses, and he took 'em home."
"Well," said Fortune, "well—then that's all right. It was a trouble, but it's over, thank the good God. I could fall on my knees this moment and offer up a prayer; that I could, Matty Bell."
Fortune's small, twinkling eyes were full of tears; she caught her neighbor's hand and wrung it hard.
"And I bless you, Matty," she continued, "for you have put me on the right trail. I'll never blame a gossiping neighbor again, never as long as I live."
"But you haven't heard me out to the end," said Matty, "for one of the little 'uns is very ill. You have found 'em, it is true; but it isn't all beer and skittles, Fortune Squeers."
"One of the children ill?" said Fortune.
"Yes; little Miss Diana. You come along and see her at once. They say she fell on her head out of a ring at the circus, and she must have hurt herself rather bad. Anyhow, she don't know a word she is saying, poor little dear."
When Fortune heard this news she shut up her mouth very tight, tied her bonnet-strings, and followed her neighbor out of the house.
The Darlings' humble little domicile happened to be in the next street, and in less than five minutes Fortune was standing over little Diana's bed. The child was tossing from side to side, her big eyes were wide open; she was gazing straight before her, talking eagerly and incessantly.