“Oh, it’s you, it’s you!” cried Dosia, running to him with an ineffable, revealing gesture, a lovely motion of her upflinging arms, a passion of joy in the face upraised to his, that called forth an instantly flashing, all-embracing light in his. In that moment there was an acknowledgment in each of an intimacy that went back of all words, back of all action. The arms that upheld her gripped her close to him as one who defends his own as he said tensely: “That beast ahead, did he touch you?” “Oh, no; he didn’t see us. We hid!” She tried to explain in hurrying, disconnected sentences. “I’ve been longing and _praying_ for you to come! I tried to let you know before we started, and you weren’t there. Lois was half crazy about Justin. Come to her now! She wanted to see Mr. Larue, and he was gone. We’ve walked from Collingswood; we have the baby with us.” “The _baby_!” “Yes; she couldn’t leave him behind. Oh, it’s been so terrible! If you had only known!” “Oh, why didn’t I?” he groaned. “I ought to have known—I _ought_ to have known! I was in that motor that must have passed you; it was just a chance that I got out to walk.” They had reached the place where Lois sat, and he bent over her tenderly. She smiled into his anxious eyes, though her poor face was sunken and wan. “I’m glad it’s you,” she whispered. “You’ll help me to get home!” “Dear Mrs. Alexander! I want to help you to more than that. I want you to tell me everything.” He pressed her hand, and stood looking irresolutely down the road. “I could go to Haledon, and send back a carriage for you; it’s three miles further on.” “No, no, no! Don’t leave us!” the accents came in terror from both. “We can walk with you. Only don’t leave us!” “Very well; we’ll try it, then.” He took the warm bundle that was the sleeping child from Lois, saying, as she half demurred, “It’s all right; I’ve carried ’em in the Spanish-American War in Cuba,” holding it in one arm, while with the other he supported Lois. The dragging march began again, Dosia, stumbling sometimes, trying to keep alongside of him, so that when he turned his head anxiously to look for her she would be there, to meet his eyes with hers, bravely scorning fatigue. The trees had disappeared now from the side of the road; long, swelling, wild fields lay on the slopes of the hillside, broken only by solitary clumps of bushes—fields deserted of life, broad resting-places for the moonlight, which illumined the farthest edge of the scene, although the moon itself was hidden by the crest of a hill. And as they went on, slowly perforce, he questioned Lois gently; and she, with simple words, gradually laid the facts bare. “Oh, why didn’t Alexander tell me all this?” he asked pitifully, and she answered: “He said it was no use; he said you had no money.” “No; but I can sometimes get it for other people! I could have gone to Rondell Brothers and got it.” “Rondell Brothers? I thought they were difficult to approach.”