e demanded, still too dazed to think clearly, "can Mrs.
Sanderson's son be William Mullins?"

"Goodness! how do we know?" returned Mollie, wiping two tears from the end
of her nose. "It's all the biggest kind of a m-mystery, anyway. Oh, dear,
has anybody got a handkerchief?" as two other tears threatened to make
their appearance. "I didn't know I had it in me to be such a goose."

"We seldom do realize our possibilities," drawled Grace, but Mollie was
too busy wiping away the traces of her weakness to notice the insult.

"And to think," Amy murmured softly, "that if that old motorcyclist hadn't
knocked Mrs. Sanderson down, she would have gone away without finding her
son, and the chances are she would never have seen him again."

"I suppose you think we ought to send the motorcyclist a vote of thanks,"
remarked Mollie dryly, recovering herself a little. "If he keeps on
knocking old ladies down in the middle of the road and then gets himself
arrested, he may be counted on to do a lot of good in the world."

"I don't see how you can say such silly things," Amy began hotly, when
Betty broke in pleadingly:

"Please, please, girls!" she said, smiling as only Betty knew how to
smile. "What is the use of quarreling about miracles? The most wonderful
thing in all the world has happened, and what do we care how it happened?
Just think of it!" she added, leaning forward eagerly. "Only this morning
we were feeling discouraged and down-hearted because Mrs. Sanderson was
going away to-morrow and we couldn't think of a thing to do to help her.
Then all in one day, in an hour, really, we capture the motorcyclist and
find her son for her. It's no wonder I can't seem to make myself believe I
haven't dreamed it all," she finished, with such a look of utter happiness
on her face that Mollie slipped an arm about her and hugged her fondly.

"You know, Betty," she said solemnly, "I'm almost beginning to have a
superstitious belief in you."

"Goodness! Why?" cried Betty, while the other two looked at Mollie
wonderingly. "What have I done now that you should say such things and
treat me thus?"

"Why, I was just thinking," Mollie replied with rare earnestness, "that,
as usual, if it hadn't been for you we probably wouldn't have arrested the
gambler--or rather, given Sergeant Mullins a chance to--and so wouldn't
have brought him here to find out he belonged to our little old lady."

"But I don't see how--" Betty was beginning in real be