Miss Keith held back in stiff reserve, and Mrs. Lawton followed, at first blindly. Then, as her eyes, focussed to the firelight, took in the details of the room in one swift glance,—bed hangings, quilt, cradle, and all,—she caught her breath and turned toward Miss Keith with arms extended, and whispered, “Ah, Cousin Keith, how did you know?—how did you think of it? They say that he may come back to himself by the long way of childhood; and how could he better do that than here in his mother’s room?” And the head, with its lovely crown of silver, rested against the taller woman’s bosom, and that swift touch of sympathy bound them doubly as kin. “That’s a bully fire and no fake,” said the Cub, suddenly, after examining the long, thick log with the toe of his shoe; then he followed Miss Keith toward the kitchen, led both by curiosity and the smell of the supper in preparation. “Where is that dog?” asked Miss Keith, abruptly. “I don’t know what Tatters will say to him, so you had best not bring him in too sudden.” “That’s what the man said,” replied the Cub, cheerfully, “but your dog couldn’t help liking Pam; she’d make friends with a lion.” “She. Oh, that’s different,” sniffed Miss Keith. * * * * * For the moment Dr. Russell was busy in taking Adam Lawton’s pulse, and when Brooke turned to speak to Robert Stead he had silently slipped away. “Never mind, Miss Brooke,” said the doctor, who read her thoughts; “Stead is a strange fellow, though a man to be trusted, but I know of no more bitter punishment to him than verbal thanks. You may need to remember this. I found out long ago that the best gratitude that any one may show him is to let him have a motive for doing something, no matter how trivial, for some one else,—lack of motive is his curse.” Then Dr. Russell also passed out into the living room, and the three were left alone. “Mother, are you glad that we have come?” asked Brooke, going to her with that new look of complete understanding that each had worn toward the other since that fateful night when Brooke had decided. “Glad, my daughter? I cannot say how thankful! Oh, if only I could be sure that we could stay!” “No _ifs_, mother,” said Brooke, gently, her eyes opening wider as she gazed into the fire. “You know in our new creed of work there is to be plenty of love and faith and hope, but not a single _if_. In fact, I always did think _if_ a poor, leaky word, that let people escape from all sorts of nice promises; now we will simply banish it,—you and I and Adam and—father.”