"I made bold to come, sir," she answered, "because the child's arm is that bad she can't seem to stand it." "Where is my daughter?" "Your daughter, Doctor? Miss Lola?" "Why did she not come with you?" "I--I don't understand you, sir." "She was with you this afternoon." "No, sir," replied Mrs. Mooney in surprise. "I haven't seen Miss Lola since you folks moved away from Eighth Avenue." It was impossible to doubt the truth of the woman's statement, and as impossible to forget that day after day Lola had left them with the intention of going to her. John and Dr. Barnhelm had often asked her, on her return, how Nellie was getting on, and Lola had answered them, seemingly much grieved over the child's condition. Dr. Crossett felt some of their amazement, and the three stood there, for a moment unable to speak until another sharp ring at the bell sent Maria hurrying to the door. No one spoke--what was there to say? They stood there waiting until they heard the door open, and heard Lola's gay laugh as she brushed past Maria, calling out to them cheerfully as she hurried down the hall: "Here I am at last. Did you think I was never coming?" There was something in their manner that made her hesitate as she stepped into the room and, glancing about for an explanation, her eyes fell upon Mrs. Mooney and Nellie. For a moment, as she turned on Mrs. Mooney, a look of such fierce rage and hatred flashed over her face, that the poor woman stepped back in terror, throwing her arms about her child instinctively, as though to shield her from danger. What was it? Why did this girl who had done so much for them, who had been the good angel of their lives, look at them like that? Mrs. Mooney looked at her in return, and as she looked she saw Lola smiling sweetly, lovingly. No trace of anything on her calm, happy face but tenderness and sympathy, and she was bitterly ashamed of her folly, and humbly grateful as Lola came and put her arms about Nellie in eager welcome. "Why, Nellie," she exclaimed, "I am so glad to see you!" "You--you have not seen her before then?" inquired her father gravely. "Oh, dear, no," answered Lola lightly. "Hasn't she told you that?" John stepped forward impatiently. There must be some good reason for her deceit of them. Surely she should give it, and as Lola turned to speak to Dr. Crossett, he stepped in front of her. "Lola, why did you----" "Now, John," she interrupted him, "please don't be silly. I see that there is nothing for me to do but confess. I had not meant to tell you until after dinner. I have been very selfish. I have been riding, in an automobile." "With whom?" "With nobody dreadful, I assure you." She turned to her father, laughing at John's frowning face. "With the wife of one of your old friends, Mrs. Dr. Rupert." "You see," Dr. Crossett sighed with perfect relief. "Why make mountains out of nothing? Surely we do not begrudge our girl a ride."