It turned out just as the gypsy queen had said. She had been wise enough long before to write an account of the happening, and have it published in some little country paper, that, having no circulation outside of the village where it was printed, was never seen by those who searched far and wide for traces of the long-lost daughter of the rich Elversons. And when she produced a copy of this it was seen that she could not be held on any charge, unless that of cruelty toward the child. But she had been smart enough never to whip the little girl in a manner that would leave any traces; and so, there being no witnesses, and a mere child’s word not holding against that of the whole tribe, she was finally allowed to go. The tribe disappeared that same hour, nor did they ever again come back to the vicinity of Columbia. On the day after the rescue of little Effie, her parents arrived. Frank and Lanky met them at the train. When they saw a beautiful, though sad-looking, lady, accompanied by a tall gentleman, get off the train, and look hungrily around, they waited no longer, but rushed up to them. “I’m the Lanky Wallace that sent the message, Mr. Elverson!” cried the boy; and his happy face caused the lady to cry: “Oh! tell me, have you found her, my poor little lamb?” For answer Lanky just turned and gave a whistle he had arranged with Effie, who had been left in the station. And as the child came running toward them, the lady started in amazement; for as yet nobody had been able to remove the stain that had been used to color her hair and her whole body, so that even her mother did not recognize her. But when her childish voice piped up the one word “mommy,” and the lady had a single look into those laughing blue eyes, she doubted no longer, but squeezed the little waif to her heart, laughing and crying at the same time. Of course they made a great ado over the two boys, and Frank in vain tried to prove that it had been all Lanky’s doings. His chum declared that they were partners through it all; and that he would never have been able to do the least thing toward learning the truth if it had not been for the advice and backing of Frank. Later on they had to go over the whole story, telling everything that had the slightest connection with the gypsies and little Effie. And before they went away with their recovered darling, Mr. Elverson and his wife made the two boys accept a most generous reward as a slight token of their esteem. “It is only what would have been paid to a stranger who recovered our child for us,” the former declared, “and which has long been standing as an inducement for the detectives of the country to exert themselves; but outside of that, my dear boys, we can never forget what you have done. Our home shall be open to you always, as though you were kith and kin to us. And Effie will expect to see you there as often as you can make it convenient.”