“They fear concussion of the brain,” he said. “I have promised Hartley to telegraph for her friends. Can you give me their address?” Miss Merivale hesitated. “I am afraid she has no near relatives, poor girl. I never heard her speak of any.” “But she is continually calling for ‘Granny,’ Mrs. Hartley says. Her grandmother ought to be here, if she has one. How could we find out?” Rhoda, who had been sitting silent till then, now looked up and spoke. “Her grandparents live at Leyton, Miss Merivale. They have a shop next door to Aunt Mary’s brother. Mr. Smith is a grocer.” Miss Merivale stared at her. “My dear, are you sure?” “Quite sure,” Rhoda answered. “I saw her photograph when I took little Hugh to his uncle’s, and they talked a great deal about her. Polly, they call her. She writes to them constantly. They brought her up, and I expect she is really very fond of them.” “But--Rhoda, are you quite sure? Why has she never spoken of them? Do you think she was ashamed of the shop? It must have been that.” “She had no reason to be ashamed,” Rhoda answered quietly. “They are dear, good people.” “Poor girl, poor girl!” was all Miss Merivale could say; but Tom, who had brought a telegraph form from the library, asked Rhoda to give him the address. “I will send this off at once,” he said, getting up. “She evidently wants to have her grandmother with her now. She calls continually for her.” CHAPTER XII. CONCLUSION. When the twelve o’clock train stopped at the station next morning two passengers got out--a little old lady dressed with Quaker-like neatness, and a tall, grizzled, sunburnt man with a breezy, open-air look about him. Tom and the Rector were both waiting on the platform, and hurried up to them. There was good news. “Your granddaughter is better, Mrs. Smith,” the Rector said in his kind voice. “But she may not know you. You must not be alarmed at that. The doctor is much more hopeful this morning, and she calls continually for you. We trust it may soothe her to have you near her.” The tears were streaming fast over Mrs. Smith’s wrinkled face. “Polly would never have no one but me to nurse her,” she said. “She was always like that from a baby. I came off the first minute I could. Mr. Smith wasn’t able to leave the shop, but Mr. Harding came with me. I’ve never travelled alone in my life, and I’d have lost my way sure enough without him. Mr. Harding’s from Australia, sir,” she added, looking at Tom, whom she had identified as Mr. Merivale. “And he’d be glad to see Miss Sampson if she’s still with Miss Merivale supposing ‘twas convenient.” “I am going back to Woodcote now,” Tom said, looking at Mr. Harding. He had started violently at the first mention of his name by Mrs. Smith, but he spoke coolly enough. “Will you walk back with me? My aunt will be very glad to see you. Miss Sampson is now at the Rectory, but I am going to fetch her and my sister after lunch.”