"Oh!" sighed the girl. "Where am I? Who are you?" There was a change—a great change in her manner.
"Oh, I am so glad you are alive!" breathed Tavia. "And how do you feel?"
"As if something—moved in—my head. Where is mother?"
There was no rambling, she spoke coherently!
"Are you hurt?" pressed Tavia. "If only you can move?"
"I am sure I can," the sufferer replied, at the same time making an effort to sit up. "I feel better—somehow. How did you come to me? I had a terrible dream."
"I met you. Do you remember your name?"
The girl did not answer at once. Then she said very slowly: "I am Mary, but they call me Molly."
"Mary what?"
"Mary Harriwell."