The dreadful day dragged to a close, while the detectives and the entire
police force scoured the city and the surrounding country.
For the one day they had succeeded in keeping the disappearance out of
the papers, hoping that if Rosanna was actually in the hands of
kidnapers they would not be frightened into taking her away or harming
her to insure their own safety.
Mrs. Hargrave went restlessly back and forth between her own house and
Mrs. Horton's, while Mrs. Horton walked endlessly up and down near the
telephone, listening and praying for news and imagining horrible things.
Throwing her pride to the winds, Minnie settled herself at Mrs.
Horton's, determined to be on hand if her darling Miss Rosanna needed
her. Minnie, for all her dismal predictions, did not give up hope but
the thought of what might be happening to Rosanna almost drove her wild.
She could not keep out of Rosanna's room, yet she could not bear to
touch a thing that the delicate little hands had handled. She wouldn't
dust. Rosanna's brush and comb lay on the dresser, and Minnie looked at
them tenderly, thinking of the long curls and wondering where and how
that lovely head was resting.
Mr. Culver went down town to a friend of his and borrowed a small car.
In this he scoured the city, and penetrated the most disreputable
portions with carefully worded questions concerning a child that had
strayed away. At lunch time Helen asked him if he would take her over to
see Mary and Gwenny. Helen had been spending her money for Gwenny, and
wanted to get her purchases where she could not see them and have them
remind her of Rosanna. Poor Helen had cried herself almost sick. With
all her broken, loving little heart she had prayed that she might be of
some help in finding Rosanna, for she too was sure that she would be
restored.
Mr. Culver was glad to take Helen over to Gwenny's, so Helen did the
things up in a neat parcel and they started.
"Don't you suppose if everyone knew that Rosanna was lost that they
would all help to look for her?" asked Helen.
"It will all come out in to-morrow morning's paper," answered Mr.
Culver. "They were afraid of scaring the people who are holding her, if
someone is holding her. The police hoped to find her before the
kidnapers were scared into carrying her a long ways off, or hiding her
perhaps in some of the caves around here. You see, Helen, with a family
as rich as the Hortons are, a child is sometimes held for what they call
ransom; that is, an immense sum of money which the parents are glad to
pay rather than have the child killed."
Mary and Gwenny were greatly shocked at the news, and wanted to hear all
about it over and over. Mr. Culver went on an errand and Helen waited
there with the two girls.
"Are they sure she wasn't hurt when she was trying to go somewhere?"
asked Mary.
"Mary saw a little girl run over by an automobile last night," said
Gwenny.
"She wasn't really run over," corrected Mary, "but pretty near."
"You don't think it was Rosanna?" cried Helen eagerly.
"Oh, no, it wasn't Rosanna," said Mary. "Rosanna never had on a dress
like that; it was just the kind of a dress I would wear and, besides,
her hair was cut short. And she wasn't pretty like Rosanna."
"Did you see her close up?" asked Helen curiously.
"Not very," confessed Mary. "She was all covered with dust where the
automobile had rolled her into the gutter, and her head was cut, and she
was unconscious: but she didn't look like Rosanna any more than I do. I
was just wondering if they had been to the hospitals."
"Yes, they went through them all," said Helen. "There were lots of
children that had been hurt one way and another, and there was one
little girl who had been hurt on the head, and couldn't tell who she
was, but she was not Rosanna. The detectives took a picture of Rosanna
along so they could be sure."
"That must have been the little girl I saw hurt," said Mary. "It was
right on Third Street, and they took her down to the Morton Memorial
Hospital right away. But it wasn't Rosanna."
"No, of course not," sighed Helen.
"Of course not!" echoed Mary.
"I wish it _was_ Rosanna," said Helen with a sob. "I wish it was!"
Leaving these thoughts to worry Mary and Gwenny, Helen went off with her
father, and in the course of time reached home.
There was a message from Mrs. Horton asking Helen to come to her as soon
as she could.
"I wish you would go with me," said Helen wistfully to her mother.
"I do not think I had better," said Mrs. Culver. "She asked particularly
for you. Don't get excited whatever is said. I trust you to act as
though I was at your side. You know, darling, that I always trust you."
Helen burst into tears. "Oh, mother, dear, dear mother, think of poor,
poor Rosanna who has no mother at all to go to for advice!"
Mrs. Culver hugged her little girl tight, wondering if little Rosanna
had perhaps gone to the young mother she had lost so long ago.
When Helen entered the library, she found that old Mrs. Horton had
collapsed, and was lying on the sofa covered with a blanket. There was a
chill in the large, dark room. Mrs. Hargrave, very sober and haggard
looking, drew Helen to her and kissed her. Then to Helen's amazement
Mrs. Horton kissed her too.
"My dear little girl," she said feebly, "I want to tell you that I find
I have made a great mistake, and I am sorry for everything. When Rosanna
comes back, I want you two little girls to be the best of friends. And I
want you to ask your father to stay with me. Perhaps he will do it if
you ask him. Mrs. Hargrave says that he is working on an invention of
some sort. He will certainly have as much spare time to give to his
studies here as he could in any business I know of. I want you to tell
him all this from me."
"Thank you so much," said Helen in her soft little voice. Then there
being nothing that she could think of to say, she stood waiting for Mrs.
Horton to speak. But Mrs. Horton wearily turned her gray face to the
wall and sighed.
"Would you mind if I go up and speak to Minnie?" Helen asked timidly.
"Not at all," answered Mrs. Horton. "It comforts me to know that there
is a child in the house. I think you will find Minnie in Rosanna's room.
You know the way."
Again she turned to the wall as though she had parted with hope, and
Helen ran quietly up the broad stairs and down the corridor to Rosanna's
room. Minnie was there sitting in her little sewing chair, mending a
dress of Rosanna's. Her tears fell on it as she worked.
"Don't do that, Minnie!" she said, throwing her arm around her. "I know
we will find Rosanna, and then everything will come out right."
She sat down on Minnie's lap, and told her everything that her father
had said, and all that Mrs. Horton had said, and then all about her
visit with Mary and Gwenny.
"As far as I go," said Minnie crossly, "the sooner they get all this in
the paper the better I will like it. Why, if there is one thing on earth
more than another that will stir folks up it is a lost child. All the
people, and the Boy Scouts and everybody will be hunting around
everywhere."
"And where do the Girl Scouts come in?" asked Helen hotly. "They will do
just as good work as the Boy Scouts will." She got up and commenced to
walk around the room. Minnie, having finished her sewing, arose too and
after a moment's thought produced from somewhere a silk duster, and
began wiping off the chairs and other furniture.
Helen watched her idly as she moved about the room, then the two large
portraits caught her attention.
"Wasn't Rosanna's mother beautiful?" she said, staring. "Her eyes seem
to look right at you as if she was trying to tell you something."
"I don't doubt she is, the dear saint!" said Minnie. "You can't begin to
know what a heap Rosanna thinks of those pictures. She used to want to
keep flowers in front of each one the way they do in churches in front
of the saints; but she didn't dare because she knew her grandmother
wouldn't let her. So she used to pick posies and tie little bunches and
slip them down behind the picture next the wall. She asked me if I
didn't think it would mean just as much. And I know it did, the lamb,
the dear, dear lamb! I told her grandmother about it too, every word.
"Why, the day you went to Fontaine Ferry--gracious, it seems a year
ago!--she fixed a little bit of a wreath of sweet peas and tucked it
behind the picture. It must be there yet all withered."
Minnie went over to the picture, and taking the heavy frame in both
hands held the picture away from the wall a little.
Something fell to the floor, but it was not the withered flowers.
When Minnie looked down, she stared and stared and, still staring,
crumpled down on her knees, wild, round eyes on the object. Helen ran to
her.
"Oh, oh, oh," moaned Minnie, "have I gone mad?"
On the floor tied by a ribbon, was Rosanna's beautiful hair!
For a space Minnie and Helen stood as though they had been frozen.
Minnie touched the long, soft locks and again moaned but all at once
Helen commenced to dance up and down.
"Now we have her, now we have her!" she cried. "Come down and tell Mrs.
Horton, Minnie! We have found Rosanna! Come, come!"
She tried to drag Minnie to the door, but Minnie pulled back.
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
"Why, don't you see?" cried Helen. "She cut it off because she didn't
want anybody to know who she was, and everyone always looked at her
lovely hair. She gave it to her mother. Oh, _don't_ you see, Minnie? And
then she started for your house, and the automobile hit her, and I just
_know_ that is our Rosanna in the hospital! Of course Mary was sure it
was not Rosanna on account of her hair. Oh, come, let's tell her
grandmother. She does truly and truly love Rosanna, Minnie. Come, let's
tell her!"
"Yes, and then find out that it isn't Rosanna at all and break her heart
for sure," said the practical Minnie. "You go down and tell Mrs.
Hargrave will she please come up here a minute, and you see that she
comes. She will know what's best to do."
Minnie bent over the long locks so carefully brushed and tied, and again
her tears flowed while Helen sped down the stairs on her errand.
Mrs. Hargrave, who had plenty of common sense, followed at once, and her
shock and surprise when she saw the curls of dark hair equalled theirs.
"Minnie is quite right," she said, nodding her head. "Mrs. Horton is in
a very bad condition. I feel as though the little girl in the hospital
may be Rosanna, but if we should find ourselves mistaken I don't know
what the effect on Mrs. Horton would be. Say good-by to Mrs. Horton,
Helen, and go tell your mother what we have found. Then ask your father
to bring you around to my house in the car. You, Minnie, slip out the
back door and meet me outside. Don't say one word until we see who this
child is. I don't see why they have not reported her if it is Rosanna.
She must have been asked to tell her name, and Rosanna is not grown up
enough to think of making up a name for the occasion. Besides she would
be glad to come home. If it is Rosanna--let me hurry!"
One by one they carefully left the house. It was late, and Mrs. Horton
seemed to be dozing. Telling the cook to put off getting dinner until
Mrs. Horton had rested, Minnie slipped out, and reached Mrs. Hargrave's
house just as the car drove up. Mrs. Hargrave came briskly trotting
along the walk a moment later and was helped in.
"It is a good thing that I am a trustee and director over at that
hospital," she remarked, "so they won't try to fuss about our seeing the
child, whoever she is. If it is only Rosanna--"
It was a swift ride. Every heart was beating quickly. If it was only
Rosanna!
Entering the hospital, Mrs. Hargrave went to the superintendent's
office, where a firm, stern looking woman met them.
"A child was hurt by an automobile last night and brought here," she
said briefly.
Mrs. Hargrave interrupted her. "I want to see her," she said.
"It is not the Horton child, if that is what you mean," said the
superintendent. "This was a short-haired child in a very ordinary dress.
She was struck on the head and was unconscious for hours. We are
surprised that no inquiry has been made."
"I am making one now," said Mrs. Hargrave crisply. "I said I wanted to
_see_ this child."
"You know it is against the rules, Mrs. Hargrave," the superintendent
objected.
"Fiddle-dee-dee!" said Mrs. Hargrave. "What ward is she in?"
The superintendent gave up. She had known that she would. Mrs. Hargrave
always had her own way. She led them down to the elevator, where they
waited and waited with what patience they could gather until the car
came slowly down and took them up to the general wards.
They tiptoed in. The little girl was bandaged and pale and sleeping
heavily; but oh, joy of joys, it _was_ Rosanna!