It would be a clever philosopher who could divine Rags's special method of logic, or who could write him down either as fool or sage. Suffice it to say that, at this moment (having run in all other possible directions, and wishing, doubtless, to keep on moving), he ran round the wood-pile; and Miss Vilda, following close behind, came upon a little figure stretched on a bit of gray blanket. The pale face shone paler in the moonlight; there were traces of tears on the cheeks; but there was a heavenly smile on his parted lips, as if his dream-mother had rocked him to sleep in her arms. Rags stole away to Jabe (for even mixed dogs have some delicacy), and Miss Vilda went down on her knees beside the sleeping boy. "Timothy, Timothy, wake up!" No answer. "Timothy, wake up! I've come to take you home!" Timothy woke with a sob and a start at that hated word, and seeing Miss Vilda at once jumped to conclusions. "Please, please, dear Miss Vildy, don't take me to the Home, but find me some other place, and I'll never, never run away from it!" "My blessed little boy, I've come to take you back to your own home at the White Farm." It was too good to believe all at once. "Nobody wants me there," he said hesitatingly. "Everybody wants you there," replied Miss Vilda, with a softer note in her voice than anybody had ever heard there before. "Samantha wants you, Gay wants you, and Jabe is waiting out here with Maria, for he wants you." "But do you want me?" faltered the boy. "I want you more than all of 'em put together, Timothy; I want you, and I need you most of all," cried Miss Vilda, with the tears coursing down her withered cheeks; "and if you'll only forgive me for hurtin' your feelin's and makin' you run away, you shall come to the White Farm and be my own boy as long as you live." "Oh, Miss Vildy, darling Miss Vildy! are we both of us adopted, and are we truly going to live with you all the time and never have to go to the Home?" Whereupon, the boy flung his loving arms round Miss Vilda's neck in an ecstasy of gratitude; and in that sweet embrace of trust and confidence and joy, the stone was rolled away, once and forever, from the sepulchre of Miss Vilda's heart, and Easter morning broke there. SCENE XVI. _The New Homestead._ TIMOTHY'S QUEST IS ENDED, AND SAMANTHA SAYS "COME ALONG, DAVE!" "Jabe Slocum! Do you know it's goin' on seven o'clock 'n' not a single chore done?" Jabe yawned, turned over, and listened to Samantha's unwelcome voice, which (considerably louder than the voice of conscience) came from the outside world to disturb his delicious morning slumbers. "Jabe Slocum! Do you hear me?" "Hear you? Gorry! you'd wake the seven sleepers if they was any whar within ear-shot!" "Well, will you git up?"