"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.
"Then how long will it take you to get ready to leave for Dalton?
Yourself, Nellie and Mr. Mooney?"
"Leave?" gasped the woman, "we have until to-morrow morning to get out
of this place--"
"Very well," replied the squire, "then you can come with us promptly,
for Major Dale will not rest until we get back.
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