Charley went to the door and called her, and soon her little feet were heard pattering along the hall; but reaching the door, and seeing the Don lying in bed, and so pale and scarred, she stood abashed and hesitating upon the threshold, with one rosy finger in her mouth, “Come in, little Sunbeam,” said he; and she began to advance slowly—a step and then a halt—till she reached the middle of the room, when with a bound and a bright smile she sprang towards him, crying, “Here’s some flowers I brought you. I saw those bad horses run over you, and I cwied.” “Did you?” said he, with a grateful smile. “I believe you are the best friend I have in the world.” And he took her hands in his and patted them gently. “Have you had your breakfast?” “No, ma’am; Molly is going to get me some.” “Won’t you take your breakfast in here with me? We’ll have a nice time together.” “Oh, may I take my breakfast with Don Miff?” “Yes, darling.” And Laura skipped out of the room. “You cannot imagine,” continued Mrs. Carter, smiling, “how all of us were puzzled by that name which Laura has just used,—Don Miff. She came in one evening and said that that was your name; and do you know we were all so stupid that we could not imagine what was the English of it till Mr. Whacker met you and told us. ‘Don,’ you will observe, has a decidedly Spanish air; but what nationality did ‘Miff’ indicate?” “Don Miff, Don Miff,” repeated he, smiling. “Well, that has a decidedly droll sound when seriously spoken as a man’s name. And Mr. Whacker told you that it was, being interpreted, plain John Smith.” “Yes; and, by the way, it occurs to me that perhaps you would like to know who I am. I am Mrs. Carter” (the Don tried to bow), “and that gentleman seated by the window, who has nursed you so faithfully” (Charley arose), “is Mr. Charles Frobisher, of Leicester County.” Charley came forward and extended his hand. “Mr. Charles Frobisher!” echoed the Don, in a startled tone, giving Charley a quick and concentrated glance; and then, as if recovering himself, he took the proffered hand, and said, “Ah, Mr. Frobisher, I am extremely indebted to you.” “Not at all,” replied Charley. “I could not do too much for one who saved the lives, as you doubtless did, of three of my friends.” “May I ask whom I so fortunately saved, as you are so good as to say?” “In the first place, Mrs. Carter’s daughter Alice.” “My only child,” added Mrs. Carter, averting her face. “And with her was Miss Lucy Poythress, daughter of a valued neighbor of mine.” “Little Laura’s sister,” explained Mrs. Carter. “Yes,” said the Don, with his eyes fixed upon the ceiling. “And my friend Jack Whacker, whom I have long—in default of other—looked upon as a younger brother. So you see that when we come to speak of obligation, the boot is on the other—” “Don Miff, here tums Molly with my bekfuss,” chirped little Laura, skipping into the room.