"Nellie!" she called softly.
Dorothy's heart felt as if a life was dependent upon those few moments.
What if it should not be the right one?
A child—pale and wan, but with an inexpressibly sweet face—stood before them. She clung to the woman like a frightened little bird.
"They have good news for us, Nellie," said the woman. "This child is
Nellie Burlock, only child of Miles Burlock."
Instantly Dorothy had her arms around the little girl.
"To think we have really found you," she tried to say, but the words choked for very joy in her throat.
"Have you any papers?" asked Squire Travers of the woman.
"Yes," she answered, "and more than papers. I took that child from her dying mother's arms, and no threats nor promises of that villain Anderson have taken her from me. She is all I have now—my own darling has been spared the hardships we have to suffer."
"But we will not take her from you," said Squire Travers. "I know something of your affairs. Your husband is a printer out of work? His name is Mooney?"
"Yes," answered the woman sadly.