"No," said Mary Dunlap decidedly. "It is better for me to be out of the house. The child resents my presence just now, and will come to herself twice as quickly if she is alone with her mother. Get a good night's rest, and perhaps she will see things differently in the morning. Sleep does a great deal toward bringing sane vision." "Oh, I do hope she is asleep! She never even lay down last night, just walked the floor and talked in that wild frantic way and then cried! I never saw anybody cry like that, so despairingly, so resentfully! It frightened me! But really, I cannot let you go back to the hotel at this time of night. It must be very late indeed. I'm sure I heard the midnight train go down quite a few minutes ago. It isn't safe for a woman to be out alone so late." "Nonsense!" laughed Mary Dunlap. "My dear, nobody would touch me. I've been out at all hours in all kinds of places, and shall often be if I live. It doesn't bother me a bit. Come, run up and see if the child is all right and then I'll go. You mustn't lose any more sleep. Can't I just stand here at the foot of the stairs and you wave to me if all is well? Is the night latch on the door? And does that light turn out from above? Then I'll shut the door after me, and you needn't come down again to-night. Good night, dear, brave, little mother. I'll call you up in the morning and see how the Father is answering our prayer." Mrs. Sheldon pressed the other woman's hand, and then tiptoed upstairs softly. Her footfalls were muffled in the heavy texture of costly rugs, and Mary Dunlap waited below, looking up for her signal, yawning wearily and suddenly realizing that she felt very old and tired. But the footsteps did not return at once as she had expected. It seemed a long time before she suddenly heard Mrs. Sheldon almost running across the floor above, rushing through the hall and down the stairs a fluttering paper in her hand. Her face was chalk white in the subdued light of the hall chandelier and her eyes burned dark with fright. "She is gone!" she cried, her voice catching in a sob. "She is not there at all. She has gone to New York!" She thrust a paper into Mrs. Dunlap's hand and dropped down upon the lowest step of the stair in a little crushed heap, her face in her hands. Mrs. Dunlap was reading the letter that had been given her: Dear Mother: (it read) There is only one thing left for me to do, and that is to go to number — Fifth Avenue New York and Prove that there is no Mr. Ralph Oliver. After I have done that, I shall go and find Rufus and we will be married at once! It is my duty to save Rufus from this terrible plot against his character. After that, we will take care of you. Don't worry. I will let you hear from me. Lovingly, DAISY. Mary Dunlap read the letter over twice, while Mrs. Sheldon cried softly. Then the elder woman spoke: