description of
Sue, and then the nurse admitted that there was a little girl in the
hospital who was now in the children's surgical ward. She had been
brought in a day or two ago, having a broken leg, owing to a street
accident. She was a very patient, good child, but there was something
strange about her--nothing would induce her to tell her name.

"Then what do you call her?" asked Harris.

He was still full of inward tremors, for at that moment he was thinking
that of all the sweet sights on earth, that sight would be little Sue's
plain face.

"Have yer no name for the pore child?" he repeated.

"Yes," said the nurse. "She calls herself Cinderella."

"It's Sue! It's Sue herself father! God has led us to her--and it's Sue
her very own self!"

Poor Connie, who had borne up during so many adventures, who had faced
the worst steadfastly and without fear, broke down utterly now. She
flung herself into her father's arms and sobbed.

"Hush, wench hush!" said the rough man. "I am willin' to do hall that is
necessary.--Now then, nurse," he continued, "you see my gel--she's
rather upset 'bout that pore Cinderella upstairs. But 'ave yer nothing
else to say 'bout her?"

"She acts in a strange way," said the nurse. "The only thing that
comforts her is the sound of Big Ben when he strikes the hour. And she
did speak about a little cripple brother."

"Can us see her?" asked Connie just then.

"It is certainly against the rules, but--will you stay here for a few
minutes and I'll speak to the ward superintendent?"

The nurse went upstairs. She soon returned.

"Sister Elizabeth has given you permission to come up and see the child
for a few minutes. This, remember, is absolutely against the ordinary
rules; but her case is exceptional, and if you can give her relief of
mind, so much the better."

Then Connie and her father followed the nurse up the wide, clean stairs,
and down the wide, spotless-looking corridors, until they softly entered
a room where many children were lying, some asleep, some tossing from
side to side with pain.

Sue's little bed was the fifth from the door, and Sue was lying on her
back, listening intently, for Big Ben would soon proclaim the hour. She
did not turn her head when the nurse and the two who were seeking her
entered the ward; but by-and-by a voice, not Big Ben's, sounded on her
ear, and Connie flung herself by her side and covered her hand with
kisses.

"You don't think, Sue, do yer