"Oh, how sorry grandpa will be to know that!" thought the child, and, with eagerness to learn every detail of the sad affair, stooped and wormed her way beneath elbows and between legs till she had come to the very roadbed down which an ambulance was dashing at highest speed, its clanging bell warning everything from its path. Right before the curb where she stood it paused, uniformed men sprang to the pavement and, with haste that was still reverent and tender, laid the injured man upon the stretcher; then off and away again, and the little girl had caught but the faintest glimpse of a gray head and faded blue garments, yet thought: "Might be another old captain, it might. Won't grandpa be sorry--if I tell him. Maybe I shan't, though I must hurry up an' find him, 'cause seein' that makes me feel dreadful lonesome, 'seems if. Oh! I do wish nobody ever need get hurted or terrible poor, or anything not nice! And--oh, oh, there's that very lady I run away from, what come to the Lane! Drivin' down in her very carriage and if----She mustn't see me! She must not--'less she's got him in there with her a'ready! What if!" Miss Bonnicastle's laudau was, indeed, being carefully driven through the jam of wagons which had stopped to give the ambulance room and she was anxiously watching the inch-by-inch progress of her own conveyance. Yet with an expression of far keener anxiety, Goober Glory recklessly darted into the very tangle of wheels and animals, crying aloud: "She's goin' straight down toward that 'Harbor' ferry! Like's not she's heard him singin' somewhere an' coaxed him to get in there with her. He might be th' other side--where I can't see--an' I must find out--I must! For----_What if!_" She reached the carriage steps, sprang upon them, by one glance satisfying herself that the lady was alone, turned to retreat, but felt herself falling. CHAPTER V A Desolate Awakening "You little dunce! Don't you know better than do that?" An indignant shake accompanied these words, with which the big policeman set Glory down upon the sidewalk after having rescued her from imminent death. In the instant of her slipping from the carriage step, the child had realized her own peril and would most certainly have been trampled under the crowding, iron-shod hoofs, had not the officer been on the very spot, trying to prevent accidents, and to keep clear from each other the two lines of vehicles, one moving north, the other south. Glory was so rejoiced to find herself free and unhurt that she minded neither the shaking nor the term "dunce," but instantly caught the rescuer's hand and kissed it rapturously, crying, "Oh, thank you, thank you! Grandpa would have felt so bad if I'd been hurt like that poor blind man. Oh, I wish I could do somethin' for you, you dear, splendid p'liceman!"