"Your mother! Then you must be little Phyllis. You don't remember—"
"Farquharson!" cried Phyllis. "Farquharson! Oh! dear, dear Farquharson."
They were crying in each other's arms, repeating names endearingly, incredulously.
VI
John stood staring.
Finally, Mrs. Farquharson, tears streaming down her kindly face, held Phyllis away from her and looked at her long and lovingly.
"My dear, my dear, my deary dear. How ever did you come to find me?"
"I didn't," replied Phyllis. "John found you. He—we—we are looking for lodgings. We—we were married this afternoon. We have been hunting for rooms for hours—and this was the last place——" Phyllis faltered. She turned to John, and then to Mrs. Farquharson. "This is Mr. Landless, my—this is my dear, dear old Nurse Farquharson. She knew my mother and father, and she took care of me when I was a little, little girl. Oh, John, you cannot know how glad I am to see her!"
They shook hands.