Nathalie tore it open, and then hastily read it. She was so excited, however, by the many events that had crowded one upon the other that she did not sense its full meaning. Recognizing the signature, “Elizabeth Van Vorst,” she cried hastily, “Well, it’s all right, boys; jump into the car,” as she stuffed the letter into the pocket of her coat. Nathalie immediately saw that a second invitation would not be needed, as the boys made a wild lunge forward, scrambling and pushing each other, as if to see which one would get there first, all but the little chap, who stood whimpering by the side of the car. “Now, boys, no pushing or pulling,” cried Nathalie with a laugh in her voice, “for there’s plenty of room, and you’re all going home with me. But here, you big one, get out and put that little kid up by me, for the poor tot must be hungry and tired.” “Sure, he is, Miss,” replied the older lad, who evidently was his brother, jumping down and lifting him up into the seat by Nathalie, despite his kicks and protests that he wanted to sit with Danny. “Ah, there, kid,” coaxed the bigger boy softly, “don’t be a girl. Show you’re a boy. Sit up there nice-like. Sure the leddy won’t eat yer.” This suggestion of being a girl had a magical effect upon the child, for he immediately ceased to whimper, and settled back in the seat with a repressed sniffle. Nathalie turned the car around,—the man who had been following her had long since disappeared in the darkness,—and was soon speeding towards home. She glanced every now and then at the three figures on the back seat, who sat as still as three blind mice, snuggling up to each other for warmth, while the little chap at her side clutched her frantically as he lurched forward every time the car swung around a corner, or bumped over a “thank-you-ma’am.” “Here, kiddie,” cried the girl presently, suddenly looking down at the child, whose big, reddish-brown eyes were staring up at her half fearfully from out of a wan, white face. “Put your head on my lap! There, that’s it,” as the child, to her surprise snuggled up to her, and then silently obeyed. “Now look up,” she added laughingly, “and count the stars.” Although this injunction brought forth a chuckle from the back seat, it sufficed to keep the little one quiet, and the girl, as she drove rapidly on, could hear him droning, “One, two, three,—” until, with a drowsy little sigh, the counting ceased, and the girl saw that he was asleep. It was almost nine o’clock when Nathalie whirled under the dimly burning lantern of the porte-cochère at Seven Pillars, where, on the veranda, Janet and her mother were anxiously watching for her.