Her visitor had pulled off a mustache and a black wig at one and the same moment, revealing a girl’s fair face crowned with short curls of shining red-gold hair.
“Darling Sadie, don’t you know your poor little Fair?” cried out a familiar voice.
When Waverley Osborne came home that night it was quite late, but he found Sadie sitting up for him, with supper ready. Her eyes were shining brightly, and her whole appearance was indicative of suppressed excitement.
“What is it, my dear?” the young husband asked, smiling, and then the whole story came out. She had found Fair—or, rather, Fair had found her.
“Only think of her passing you every day, and your not knowing her!” she exclaimed.
“That could not have been!” he replied. “I should have known Fairfax Fielding anywhere.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me that she was at the factory at work?” demanded Mrs. Osborne saucily.
“Because she was not there!” he replied positively.
“Then you never saw Widow Karrick?” she laughed.
He started, and gazed at her in wonder as he exclaimed: