“I haven’t thanked you yet,” and he turned again to Mrs. Blossom, “for the interest you have shown in the matter. Indeed I was so surprised when I received the letter from the minister who married Kate, who still lives in Fredonia, inclosing yours to him, and the first word concerning Kate for fifteen years, that I haven’t recovered from it yet. And now to find another Kate, as you may say; why, it makes me feel as though I had lost my reckoning, and the world had rolled back thirty years.” “And did you not know then that Rose’s mother was dead?” “No. Since her foolish, runaway marriage to Jim Shannon, sixteen years ago, I had not heard a word either from or about her, till your letter, and you know how little that told. Since her mother’s death the lawyer in charge of the business has made every effort to find a trace of Kate or her heirs, but in vain. Of the events of her later life I know nothing whatever, not even when or where she died.” “It was when I was quite a little girl,” answered Rose, “and in a city that I now think was Chicago.” “I gather from Mrs. Blossom’s letter that your father was also dead. Is that so?” “Yes; he died a little while after mamma.” “A fortunate circumstance for you,” with a nod to Mrs. Blossom. “And where have you been all this time; and why if you had your mother’s marriage certificate didn’t you try to find your friends, or somebody before this try to find them for you?” In the meantime, Mr. Samuel Jarvis, the old gentleman, as he talked, had by degrees taken off his muffler, fur-lined overcoat, fur cap and gloves, and accepted the comfortable rocker before the fire. Now in answer to his question, made though it was in a somewhat testy fashion, Rose related to him her story, recalling all the details she could remember of her mother, while Great-Uncle Samuel rubbed his eyes with his big silk handkerchief and murmured, “Poor Kate, poor Kate!” When she came to her residence with Madam Atheldena Sharpe, his tone changed to one of horrified protest. “Kate’s baby in the hands of a travelling clairvoyant; exhibited like a Punch and Judy Show; who ever heard of such a thing!” As she told of the exposure, and her desertion by Madam Sharpe, the bitterness and misery of which she had never forgotten, he bristled with indignation. “Kate’s baby with nowhere to go and nothing to eat; alone, afraid, and hungry! Could it be possible!” All excited as she was, and stimulated still more by his interest, Rose gave to her story a certain dramatic force. Her keen sense of the ludicrous gave some humorous touches even to her description of Mrs. Hagood. When it came to her trouble with that lady she hesitated a moment, and then gave a most dramatic account of the closing scene, as well as of her flight, her encounter with Ben Pancost, and the help he had given her.