"Come along, Patty," Van Reypen cried, as he hung up the receiver, "come on, Bill! I've found her! She's assumed the name of Alice Adams,--and she's with a sweet-voiced lady named Grayson. Come on,--I'll tell you the rest as we go." They didn't break the speed laws, as their car flew down to New York, but it was only because that would have meant delay in reaching their goal. About mid-afternoon they arrived at Miss Grayson's apartment and surprised Azalea by entering the room where she sat. "You naughty girl!" cried Patty,--but as she noted Azalea's pale face and worried, harassed eyes, she just clasped her in her arms, with a little crooning murmur of affection. "It's all right, whatever it is," she reassured, for Azalea turned big, frightened eyes on Farnsworth. "You bet it's all right!" Philip cried, as he stepped eagerly forward. With a tired little sigh, Azalea put her hand in his. "How did you find me?" she began, but Van Reypen said, "Never mind that, now. You just come back home with us,--and first thank Miss Grayson prettily for her kindness to you." Miss Grayson, a pretty, round-faced girl, was greatly interested in the dramatic situation, and though she disclaimed any occasion for thanks, yet she very much wanted to know what it was all about. "I already like Miss Adams too well to let her go entirely out of my life," she said, with spirit. "I claim my right to know a little about it." "It _is_ your right," said Farnsworth, "and first of all this runaway of ours is not Miss Adams, but Miss Thorpe." "No," said Azalea, with an air of decision, "I'm _not_ Miss Thorpe,--and I _am_ Alice Adams." "Flighty," said Farnsworth, "and no wonder. She's been under a good deal of nervous strain lately." "No; I'm not flighty," persisted Azalea, who was entirely composed now, and who spoke firmly, though she was evidently controlling herself with an effort. "And I'm going to confess now," she went on. "Now and here. Miss Grayson is so kind and dear I don't mind her knowing, and the rest of you _must_ know. I must tell you,--I can't _live_ if I don't." "All right, Zaly, dear, tell us," and Patty sat beside her, and put a caressing hand on her arm. "I am Alice Adams," Azalea said, "and I am not Azalea Thorpe at all,--and I never was." "Oh!" said Farnsworth, beginning to see light. "I am a wicked girl," the pathetic little voice went on. "I lived in Homer's Corners,--and I lived with the woman who keeps the post-office there. I've been an orphan since I was four, and this woman brought me up,--though it scarcely could be called that, for she only looked on me as her assistant in the office and in her house. "Well, one day a letter came for Azalea Thorpe. Now, the Thorpes moved away from Horner's Corners two years ago, and we never knew their new address. The few letters that came for them were sent to the Dead Letter Office. This one would have been, but for the fact that it was unsealed.