She shook her head. "Never."

"Brave Baby."

"I don't usually care to be called a baby," she remarked. "But I don't
mind from you."

"I'm especially favoured, it seems," said the young man. "Tell me how
you happen to know me? I can't think, I must confess, unless it was on
shipboard--"

"There! I knew perfectly well it was you!" broke in Rosemary with a look
of rapture. "You _were_ on a ship, and you were lost at sea. But you're
found again now, because it's Christmas Eve."

"I wasn't lost at sea, though, or I shouldn't be here with you," said
Hugh Egerton. He glanced rather wistfully in a puzzled way at the
lovely little face framed with blowing golden hair. There was something
in the child's eyes which stabbed his heart; yet there was sweetness in
the pain. "I'm afraid we're playing at cross purposes, aren't we?" he
went on. "Was it on a ship that you saw me?"

"Oh, I didn't see you on the ship," said Rosemary. "I only knew you went
away on one. I haven't seen you for ever and ever so long, not since I
was a tiny baby."

"By Jove! And you've remembered me all this time?"

"Not exactly remembered. It was the feeling I had in my heart, just as
Jane said I would, the minute I saw you, that told me it was you. That
was why I ran to keep you from going on in your motor car, because if
you had, I might have lost you again, forever and ever."

"So you might," said puzzled Hugh Egerton, pleased as well as puzzled.
"And that would never have done for either of us."

"It would have been dreadful," replied Rosemary, "to have to wait for
another Christmas Eve."

"Christmas Eve seems a day for adventures," said Hugh. "One finds new
friends;--and dear little girls; and--goodness knows what I shall find
next."

"We must find Angel next," Rosemary assured him. "She'll be so glad to
see you."

"Do you really think so? By the way, who is Angel?"

"Mother. Didn't you know _that_?"

"I expect I'd forgotten," Hugh answered. She looked so reproachful, that
not for the world would he have denied all knowledge of Angel. The child
evidently took him for someone she had known; perhaps she had seen a
photograph of some long lost friend of her family, who resembled him,
and she had sprung to a conclusion, as children do. But she was an
exquisitely pretty and engaging little thing, a grand little pal, and
worth cultivating. Hugh liked children, especially girls, though he had
always been rather shy with them, not knowing ex