Tom Moran read the besmirched letter Dorothy had received through her advertisement in the paper. Then he made Poke

Daggett give up the reply he had taken addressed to “John Smith.”

“Explanation’s easy,” he said, bluntly. “These Daggetts knew me. Why, I fed ’em for a whole month this winter

when Jane Daggett was sick. Ain’t that so, Poke?”

Poke whined: “Wal, ’twarn’t none o’ my doin’s, Tom. I tole ma how ’twould be. But she seen the notice in the

Salvation Army paper. One o’ them Salvation Anns was round ter see us an’ lef’ the paper; maw said mebbe there

was money in it for us ef we played our cards right——”

“And all we were trying to find Mr. Moran for was because of his little sister—and she wanting him so!”

ejaculated Tavia. “My! but you Daggetts must be mean sort of folks.”

This frank statement drew no comment from Poke. He was too meek now.

225 “Well, I reckon you can get out,” said Tom Moran, grimly. “And tell your maw to bring around to the place

where I’ve been boarding Miss Dale’s hat and coat, the watch, the pocket-book and the ring—and anything else they

took from Miss Dale. If she doesn’t do it I’ll see that she and you and that Munsey woman all go to jail, where

you belong. Believe me, I’ll do it!”

Tom Moran, although he had been only working at odd jobs about Dalton, was a person of intelligence and seemed to

feel sure of his ability to do as he said. When Poke was out of the way, he turned back to Dorothy and smiled

broadly.

“I get it that you have been interesting yourself in my affairs, Miss, and I thank you. If you can tell me anything

about poor little Cely——”

“I can tell you all about her, Mr. Moran,” cried Dorothy, eagerly. “And you really couldn’t find her?”

“I’ll tell you how it was,” said Tom Moran. “I went away to get work that would pay me better. I was going to

send money to Auntie every month. I went with a gang to Mexico, and the very first week we were at work a crowd of

rebels came and drove us away from the job, and I got shot.

“I was in a hospital in Texas. Then I came East, after writing and getting no answer from Auntie. When I got home

the very house we226 lived in was torn down and there wasn’t a soul in the neighborhood remembered my aunt, or

little Cely, or knew what became of them.

“I hunted around and advertised in the papers, but didn’t get any news. I had to go to work again, and I got a job

on the Adrian Building, that was put up right next to the old Rector Street School. I guess you read about that

school being burned?” he asked, with a sidelong glance at Dorothy, that reminded the girl very much of Celia

herself.

“We looked it up,” said Dorothy.

“Oh, and there’s Miss Olaine!” interposed the deeply interested Tavia. “Did you know Miss Rebecca Olaine?”

“Hush, Tavia!” admonished Dorothy.

But Tom Moran flushed up to the very roots of his red hair, and his blue eyes opened wide.

“Guess I do know her,” he said. “Why—why, we boarded at the same house together, for a while. On Morrell Street.

Of course—of course, Miss Olaine was too high-toned a lady for me——”

Tavia sniffed. “I don’t know, Mr. Moran. She’s one of our teachers now at Glenwood. Aren’t you just as good as

anybody else?”

“Well! I dunno. I ain’t eddicated, as ye might say. When I get re’l excited I drop inter the brogue, too,” and

he shook his head with a grin.

227 “Howsomever, no need to speak of that fire—or Miss Olaine——”

“But we want to know,” began the eager and curious Tavia.

“Hold on, now!” cried Ned White. “Let’s have things on order. All this search of Dorothy’s was taken on because

of the little girl, I understand?”

“I promised Celia I’d find her brother,” said Dorothy, gravely. “And I believe you are he, Mr. Moran. She says

her brother is Tom Moran, and that he is very big and strong, and—that his hair is red——”

“That’s me!” cried Tom Moran, slapping his knee, and bursting into laughter. “The little dear! She used ter pull

my hair when she was a baby. She ain’t forgot.”

“No,” said Dorothy, quietly. “She hasn’t forgotten. ‘He builds bridges, and things,’ Celia says. And she prays

for you to come for her every night, Tom Moran. She—she is just wearing her little heart out for you,” and Dorothy

hid her eyes and sobbed aloud.

“Oh, my dear!” cried Tavia, coming to hug her.

“You tell me all about her, Miss,” urged the red-haired man. “I’ll sure go after her if she’s a thousand miles

away.”

“Oh, she’s not,” replied Dorothy, through her228 tears. “She’s only eight miles from Glenwood, on Mrs. Hogan’s

farm.”

“That ogress!” mu............