CHAPTER V.
A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM.
When Hugh O'Hara came to the door of Harvey Bradley, he was in his best dress--the same that he wore to church on Sundays.

Aunt Maria met him on the threshold, and, in tremulous tones, thanked him.

Then she led the way to the back parlor, where the young superintendent awaited him.
The moment he entered, there came a flash of sunshine and a merry exclamation, and with one bound, little Dollie (none the worse, apparently, for her adventure the night before) landed in the iron-like arms and kissed the shaggy-bearded fellow, who laughingly took a chair and held her a willing captive on his knee.
Harvey sat smiling and silent until the earthquake was over.

Then, as his chief foreman looked toward him, he said: "As I said last night, Hugh, the service you have done is beyond payment.

You know what a storm set in just after Dollie was brought home, she never could have lived through that." "It would have gone hard with her, I'm afraid," replied the embarrassed visitor; "does the little one feel no harm ?" "We observe nothing except a slight cold, which the doctor says is of no account.