“Polly!” hissed Eleanor, anxiously, “did you hear what he said?”
“S-sh! let us follow and see what’s the matter. Someone came in with Mr. Dalken, you know,” returned Polly in a low voice.
Mrs. Stewart and Anne now crept from behind the heavy window curtains and tip-toed after Polly and Eleanor. And, last of all, Martha came from behind the door and followed in the wake of the other four. Then they heard Mr. Dalken talking.
“Well, here’s the boy, but how he ever got into my rooms I cannot say. Mrs. Ashby will have to explain that, in a minute, as she is the one who seemed to know where to find Martha and the baby.”
Martha was still in the hall and could not see who was in the living-room with Mr. Dalken, but the four conspirators now stood staring at the group in the center of the lighted room.
Mr. and Mrs. Ashby were seated in comfortable armchairs, smiling happily at the two standing men and about to make the baby comfortable. He had been transferred from Mr. Dalken’s arms to those of a younger man who was trembling with joy at beholding Billy’s smiling little face.
“There, now, Martin. Isn’t he worth living for? You said you wanted to die, when you found your wife was gone. But let me tell you, my boy, this baby ought to make you brace up.” Mr. Dalken patted the strange young man on the shoulder, and just then Martha burst into the room.
“Jimmy! Oh, Jimmy—is it you, or is it someone who looks like my dead Jimmy?”
“Aunt Martha—Dear Aunt Martha—it is your own Jimmy. I was a long time coming home, but here I am at last!”
Then Polly and Eleanor learned the true story about their precious Billy who was, according to them, to have adopted Mr. Dalken for a father.