“I just phoned over for you, Miss Powderly,” she said. “A friend is waiting,” and her smile betrayed something of the good news expected. “Oh, Stanislaus! My friend! My brother!” exclaimed the overwrought Helen, rushing in and grasping the two outstretched hands of the young man who stood in the center of the office. “At last you have come! Oh, it is too good!” “And as good to me, little sister!” replied the young man affectionately, returning Helen’s greeting. “It seems years I have been looking.” “Let us sit down,” said Helen, finally releasing the hand of her caller, “over there by the big palm. You see, Stan, I have a very lovely home. And we will tell our story in English, Stan, for Miss Bennet is my very good friend.” Miss Bennet smiled her appreciation of the compliment. Had Helen chosen to use her native tongue, Polish, the secretary would have felt like one endured through sufferance, but English has a way of floating around, even to the corners of such an office as that of Wellington. “And now tell me, Stan dear,” begged Helen. “Where have you been and how did you lose me?” She smiled prettily at this question, then continued. “After that you may tell me how you have found me.” The young man smiled in return. He was of light complexion, and had curls to add to his distinguished appearance—but wait until Jane or Judith would see those curls! Noting his wonderful broad forehead, even Miss Bennet guessed he must be a very talented young man, indeed. “I will tell you all about it, little sister,” he began in a subdued voice. “After I left you at the young ladies’ seminary at Blindwood I returned to New York, and there, I found, I was being watched by those Russians!” “Oh, those men! I, too, saw them, and had much trouble to get away!” interrupted Helen. “Then I knew I should not again risk going to your school, or even sending a letter. I waited for weeks, hoping to find some way to send you word, when I was suddenly called West to fulfill a contract in a big city. That took me far away, and with sorrow I left you, sending no word. It was like the old world then, here in this America. The traitor was everywhere and I could not risk your happiness once more. So I went to the West.” “But you were very wise, Stan,” Helen insisted, “for all the time at that school, I had money, and all things I wanted. You arranged things so beautifully.” “I am happy, Siostra,” he replied, using the Polish term for sister. “I would that little Helka had never to know sorrow, she has suffered too much.” “But now—no more,” and Helen grasped his hand in sheer gratitude. “It was while in Chicago,” continued the young man, “I met a social worker, she was called, and this young lady told me what to do to get a message to you. She wrote a letter to the New York worker, Miss Mahon, and that was how I found you had come here from Blindwood.” “Oh—I see!” exclaimed Helen, as if the information had answered a long standing question.