Wasted and shorn of her beautiful hair, clothed in the discarded rags of a Fogarty twin, it would have taken keen eyes indeed to recognize in the little outcast the radiant "Guardian Angel" who had flashed upon Glory's amazed sight that day in Elbow Lane; yet something about it there was which made the near-sighted colonel grope hastily for his eyeglasses and in his haste overlook them, so that he muttered angrily at his own awkwardness. Into the blue eyes of the little one herself crept a puzzled wondering look, that fixed itself upon the perplexed gentleman with a slowly growing comprehension. Just then, too, when forgetting her own anxiety, Glory looked from the baby to the man and back again, startled and wondering, a lady came to the doorway and exclaimed: "Why, brother, whatever is the matter! Such an uproar----" But her sentence was never finished. Bonny's gaze, distracted from the colonel to his sister, glued itself to the lady's face, while the perplexity in the blue eyes changed to delight. With a seraphic smile upon her dainty lips, a smile that would have made her recognizable anywhere, under any disguise, the little creature propelled herself from Glory's arms to the outstretched arms of Miss Laura, shrilling her familiar announcement: "Bonny come! Bonny come!" How can the scene be best explained, how best described? Maybe in words of honest Timothy Dowd himself; who, somewhat later, returning to the Queen Anne cottage, called the entire Fogarty family about him and announced to the assembled household: "Well, sirs! Ye could knock me down with a feather!" after which he sank into profound silence. "Huh! And is that what ye're wantin' of us, is it? Well, you never had sense," remarked Mary, turning away indignantly. Thus roused, the railroader repeated: "Sure, an' ye could. A feather'd do it, an' easy. But sit down, woman. Sit down as I bid ye, an' hear the most wonderful, marvelous tale a body ever heard this side old Ireland. Faith, I wish my tongue was twicet as long, an' I knew better how to choose the beginnin' from the end of me story, or the middle from any one. But sit down, sit down, lass, an' bid your seven onruly gossoons to keep the peace for onct, while I tell ye a story beats all the fairy ones ever dreamed. But--where to begin!" "Huh! I'll give you a start," answered Mrs. Fogarty, impatiently. "You went from here: now go on with your tale." "I went from here," began Timothy, obediently, and glad of even this small aid in his task. "I went from here an' I follyed the three of 'em, monkey an' man an' girl----" "And the baby. That's four," corrected Dennis, junior, winking at a brother. "Hist, boy! Childer should speak when they're spoke to," returned Timothy, severely, then continued, at length: "I went from here. And I follyed----" Here he became so lost in retrospection that Mary tapped him on the shoulder, when he resumed as if no break had occurred: