“There, madam,” and the doctor placed the small, gray-clad form in the cab. “This poor little mite cannot thank you herself; but, if you will allow me, in humanity’s name to offer you gratitude----” The lady stopped him. “I have done no more than my duty. I thank you, sir, for your courtesy. Will you kindly let me know as early as possible the results of your telegram? I will go to the Plow; my name is Graham.” “And mine Scott. I will certainly let you know the instant I receive any intelligence. Something must be done with this child; but that is for to-morrow’s consideration. She is safe in your hands for to-night.” Dr. Scott raised his hat, and the cab started along the country lane toward Chesterham. Mrs. Graham drew Mardie on to her knee, and tried to chat to the child; but her whole nervous system was so shattered by the events of the past hour that the effort was vain. Chesterham was a large manufacturing town. The news of the collision had spread rapidly, and, although the November dusk was closing in, crowds were thronging to the scene of the disaster. Mrs. Graham leaned back in a corner to escape the eager eyes, for she knew the story of the young mother’s death would be known by now, and her natural refinement and delicacy shrunk from vulgar curiosity and hysterical excitement. The cab soon rattled into Chesterham, and, after a short journey through the lamp-lighted streets, stopped before the door of The Plow. Mardie was handed out to a pretty-faced chambermaid, whose bright cap ribbon immediately claimed the child’s attention, and Mrs. Graham followed slowly and wearily up the stairs, feeling her strength go at every step. The babyish voice and shrill peals of laughter echoed in her ears as the wail of future grief; her eyes were fixed on the small form, but her thoughts were with the dead young mother. She dismissed the maid when she reached her room, and, drawing Mardie to her, began to loosen the gray coat, which bore traces of dainty design beneath the dust and dirt. For the first time the child seemed to feel her loss. “Mammie undress Mardie,” she said, putting up one little hand. “Mammie seep now, but wake soon.” “Mammie would like Mardie to take off her coat like a good girl,” Mrs. Graham replied, feeling instinctively that the youthful mind grasped already the meaning of love and duty. The child dropped her hand and nodded her head, then submitted to have the coat removed. She was neatly dressed in a dark-red cashmere frock, made loose like a blouse; she wore a tiny thread of gold round her neck, with a little heart-shaped pendant suspended. Mrs. Graham took it in her hand, eagerly hoping to find some clew; but, on turning it, her eyes rested on a miniature of the mother’s lovely face.