It was with heavy hearts that Margaret and Patty left the little attic room half an hour later. They had no clew now upon which to work, and the accomplishment of their purpose seemed almost impossible. In the little attic room behind them, however, they left nothing but rejoicing. Margaret's gifts had been liberal, and her promises for the future even more than that. The little bent old woman could look straight ahead now to days when there would be no bare cupboards and empty coal scuttles to fill her soul with apprehension, and her body with discomfort. Back to the hotel went Margaret and Patty for a much-needed night's rest, hoping that daylight and the morning sun would urge them to new efforts, and give them fresh courage, in spite of the unpromising outlook. Nor were their hopes unfulfilled. The morning sun did bring fresh courage; and, determined to make a fresh start, they turned their steps to the Alley. The Alley never forgot that visit, nor the days that immediately followed it. There were men and women who remembered Mag of the Alley and Patty Murphy; but there were more who did not. There were none, however, that did not know who they were before the week was out, and that had not heard the story of Margaret's own childhood's experience in that same Alley years before. As for the Alley--it did not know itself. It had heard, to be sure, of Christmas. It had even experienced it, in a way, with tickets for a Salvation Army tree or dinner. But all this occurred in the winter when it was cold and snowy; and it was spring now. It was not Christmas, of course; and yet-- The entire Alley from one end to the other was flooded with good things to eat, and with innumerable things to wear. There was not a child that did not boast a new toy, nor a sick room that did not display fruit and flowers. Even the cats and the dogs stopped their fighting, and lay full-stomached and content in the sun. No wonder the Alley rubbed its eyes and failed to recognize its own face! The Alley received, but did not give. Nowhere was there a trace of the twins; and after a two weeks' search, and a fruitless following of clews that were no clews at all, even Margaret was forced sorrowfully to acknowledge defeat. On the evening before the day they had set to go home, Patty timidly said: "I hadn't oughter ask it, after all you've done; but do ye s'pose--could we mebbe jest--jest go ter Mont-Lawn fur a minute, jest ter look at it?" "Mont-Lawn?" "Yes. We was so happy thar, once," went on Patty, earnestly. "You an' me an' the twins. I hain't never forgot it, nor what they learnt me thar. All the good thar was in me till you come was from them. I thought mebbe if I could jest see it once 'twould make it easier 'bout the other--that we can't find the twins ye know." "See it? Of course we'll see it," cried Margaret. "I should love to go there myself. You know I owe it--everything, too."