"But where are Obed and Orah?" cried Mrs. Stimpcett, in alarm.

"I have not seen them," said Mrs. Polly Slater.

As she said this, Mr. Furlong stopped at the gate. He said that as he
was passing by he thought he would ask how Obed and Orah got on in
finding their aunt Debby's.

"_Aunt Debby's!_" cried Mr. Stimpcett, Mrs. Stimpcett, grandma, and Mrs.
Polly Slater--"_Aunt Debby's!_"

On hearing at what place Mr. Furlong had left her children, Mrs.
Stimpcett fainted and fell upon the ground. Then all the people tried to
revive her. The slender young lady fanned with her parasol, Mrs. Polly
Slater fetched the camphor bottle, Mr. Furlong pumped, Mr. Stimpcett
threw dipperfuls of water--though owing to his agitation not much of it
touched her face--and grandma called down from the chamber window what
should be done.

In the confusion no one noticed the approach of a newcomer. This was the
charcoal man, bringing shoes and stockings. "Here are your little girl's
shoes and stockings," said he. "She left them in my cart."

"They are not _my_ little girl's," said Mr. Stimpcett, throwing a
dipperful of water on the ground.

"She said she was your little girl," said the charcoal man. "But there
she is"--pointing to the barn; "you can see for yourself."

Mr. Stimpcett ran to the barn, and was amazed to find that the two
beggar children were his Obed and Orah. Mr. St. Clair was scolding them,
and the tears were running down their cheeks in narrow paths. Mr.
Stimpcett led them quickly to Mrs. Stimpcett. Seeing their mother
stretched as if dead upon the ground, they both screamed, "Ma! ma!
m--a!"

The well-known sounds revived her. She opened her eyes, raised herself,
and caught the children in her arms.

The slender young lady advised that the smoking-cap be hung out-doors in
a high wind, and afterward cleansed with naphtha. The clothes of Obed
and Orah were also hung out, and Mr. Stimpcett, for fun, arranged them
in the forms of two scarecrows, which scared so well that the birds flew
far away. The consequence was an enormous crop of cherries, all of
which, except a few for sauce, Mr. Stimpcett sent to the charcoal man.

Mr. St. Clair and the slender young lady were married the next year at
cherry-time, and it was said that during their honey-moon they subsisted
chiefly upon cherries. And now my story's done.

* * * * *

"How is this, Mr. Story-Teller?" cried the children's mamma. "The st