And with that, before the wondering eyes of the nurse, of Alice and of Ruth, Estelle Brown--no--Mildred Passamore, turned over and calmly went to sleep! For an instant those in the hospital room neither moved nor spoke. Then Alice cried: "That solves it! That ends the mystery! I'll go and get the paper." "What paper?" asked Ruth. "Don't you remember? The old paper that I wrapped my scout shoes in when we were packing to come to Oak Farm. The one that father saved because it had a theatrical notice of him in it. "It was that four-year-old paper which contained an account of the strange disappearance of the wealthy San Francisco girl, Mildred Passamore. Don't you remember? There was a reward of ten thousand dollars offered for her discovery." "Oh, I do remember!" gasped Ruth. "And this is she!" "Must be!" declared Alice. "She says that's her name. And from what she told us she can, as Estelle Brown, think back only about four years. She must have received some injury that took away her memory. Now she is herself again. "Ruth, I believe we have found the missing Mildred Passamore! We must tell daddy at once, and Mr. Pertell. Then we must telegraph Mr. Passamore. I'll get his address from the old paper. But the Palace Hotel, San Francisco, will reach him, I presume. Oh, isn't it all wonderful!" "It certainly is," agreed Ruth. They gave one glance at the sleeping girl--Mildred or Estelle--and then went out, while Miss Lyon summoned Dr. Wherry to acquaint him with the strange turn of the case. "Mildred Passamore found! How wonderful!" exclaimed Mr. DeVere, when his daughters told him what had happened. "But we must make sure. It would be a sad affair if we sent word to the father, and it turned out that this girl was not his daughter. We must make sure." Alice got out the old paper. It contained a description of the missing Mildred Passamore, and in another newspaper dated a few days before the one Alice had used as a wrapper for her shoes (another paper which Mr. DeVere had saved because of a notice in it) was a picture of the girl. "It is she! Our girl--the one we knew as Estelle Brown--is Mildred Passamore!" cried Alice as she looked at the picture in the paper. "There is no doubt of it," agreed Ruth, and Mr. DeVere affirmed his daughters' opinions. Mr. Pertell was told of the occurrence, and, being a good judge of pictures and persons, he decided there was no doubt as to the identity. "We will telegraph to Mr. Passamore at once," decided the director. The crisis--for such it was in the case of the injured girl--seemed to mark a turn for the better. She slept nearly forty-eight hours, awakening only to take a little nourishment. Then she slept again. She did not again mention any names, nor, in fact, anything else. Her friends could only wait for the arrival of Mr. Passamore to have him make sure of the identity.