It took Edith some time to adjust herself to the scene before her. Mrs. Morton knew all the children, and had a word of cheer or sympathy for most of them as she passed from bed to bed through the ward. Gradually the first painful impressions wore off, and Edith felt herself drawn to the little patients, and before five minutes had passed her heart was full of a strong desire to do whatever lay in her power to help and comfort them. After spending half an hour with the girls, during which time Edith talked and read to a number of them, Mrs. Morton said, “Now let us go into the boys' ward.” They crossed the hall together, and entered the room on the other side. Here, as in the opposite ward, Mrs. Morton was recognized as welcome visitor. Every face that happened to be turned to the door brightened at her entrance. “There's a dear child in this ward,” said Mrs. Morton as they stood for a moment in the door looking about the room. “He was picked up in the street about a week ago, hurt by a passing vehicle, and brought here. We have not been able to learn anything about him.” Edith's heart gave a sudden leap, but she held it down with all the self-control she could assume, trying to be calm. “Where is he?” she asked, in a voice so altered from its natural tone that Mrs. Morton turned and looked at her in surprise. “Over in that corner,” she answered, pointing down the room. Edith started forward, Mrs. Morton at her side. “Here he is,” said the latter, pausing at a bed on which child with fair face, blue eyes and golden hair was lying. A single glance sent the blood back to Edith's heart. A faintness came over her; everything grew dark. She sat down to keep from falling. As quickly as possible and by another strong effort of will she rallied herself. “Yes,” she said, in a faint undertone in which was no apparent interest, “he is a dear little fellow.” As she spoke she laid her hand softly on the child's head, but not in a way to bring any response. He looked at her curiously, and seemed half afraid. Meanwhile, a child occupying a bed only a few feet off had started up quickly on seeing Edith, and now sat with his large brown eyes fixed eagerly upon her, his lips apart and his hands extended. But Edith did not notice him. Presently she got up from beside the bed and was turning away when the other child, with a kind of despairing look in his face, cried out, “Lady, lady! oh, lady!” The voice reached Edith's ears. She turned, and saw the face of Andy. Swift as a flash she was upon him, gathering him in her arms and crying out, in a wild passion of joy that could not be repressed, “Oh, my baby! my baby! my boy! my boy! Bless God! thank God! oh, my baby!” Startled by this sudden outcry, the resident physician and two nurses who were in the ward hurried down the room to see what it meant. Edith had the child hugged tightly to her bosom, and resisted all their efforts to remove him.