The words seemed to start from the printed page before Christina's eyes, and she read them over and over again with growing wonder. It was Friday morning, two days after her two disastrous visits--one to the shut-up house in Bayswater, the other to the insolent jewellers--and with difficulty she had managed to crawl round to the Free Library, feeling that she dared leave no stone unturned in a fresh search for work. The day before she had perforce spent in bed, for her day of fatigue, emotion, and exposure to the weather, had been followed by a night of fever and aching limbs; and on the Thursday morning she could scarcely lift her head from the pillow. But on Friday, realising affrightedly that each day brought her nearer to absolute destitution, she made a herculean effort, got up and dressed, and, feeling more dead than alive, dragged herself to the library, to study the monotonous advertisement columns of the newspapers. And having wearily glanced down the familiarly-worded lines, in which nursery governesses and companions were asked for, at wages that would not satisfy the average kitchen-maid, she turned to the front page of the _Morning Post_, and found herself confronted with the advertisement that now held her astonished eyes: "Will the lady who on Monday morning brought Baba home out of the fog, kindly call at 100, Eaton Square, any time between eleven and one o'clock." Unless there were two Babas in the world, and two ladies who had taken them home out of the fog, she herself was clearly the person indicated by the advertisement; and as the square in which the bewitching baby had been taken from her by an excited footman, was certainly Eaton Square, she had little doubt but that the advertiser wished to thank, and perhaps to reward, her. A hot flush came into her white cheeks as the word "reward" entered her mind; all her instincts revolted against the notion of being rewarded for doing what had been a most obvious duty. But with the instinct of revolt came also a little rush of hope. To the tired girl the advertisement seemed like a friendly hand outstretched towards her; and though pride whispered to her to pay no heed to it, and to ignore it altogether, the sense that kindliness towards a total stranger had prompted the advertisement, fought hard with pride. After all, if she went to 100, Eaton Square, she need accept nothing at the hands of the inmates: that they should wish to thank her for the safe return of their little one was only natural, and it would be churlish of her to refuse to be thanked.