When Uncle Billy and Pincher came round a bend of the tangled path, an hour or two later, cutting their way through the thicket here, and lifting the low boughs there, they stopped short at the sight of the lost Ally sitting on a log with Sally, whose feet could take her no farther. Ally, whose rosy face was a picture of delight, sympathy, and anxiety, was holding a tiny sleeping baby in her arms, and looking at it with eyes of unbounded love.

Being made to understand the case, that this was one of the Children of the Hill, only her feet were lame, who had brought Aunt Susan’s baby back to her—Uncle Billy blew a blast on his megaphone to let the family know Ally was all right.

Then he took Sally in his arms, while Pincher followed with the baby, Ally keeping close behind. After a few intervals of rest, and much talk by the way, the little company got down the hill and across the valley, and at last reached the great farm piazza.

So it came to pass that when Old Uncle and the rest, having heard the megaphone, came down from the wilds of Blue Top, there was Sally in the hammock, tired and white through all her sunburn, but with a look of infinite happiness on her face. For she had seen Essie run to meet Ally and throw her arms about her in an ecstasy of joy at her safe return, and Janet bringing her her little chair, and Will hurrying with the dinner that had been saved for her, and dividing it in two portions, one for herself and one for her. And Aunt Rose had wiped her warm and dusty face with a wet sponge, drying it with a soft towel, and kissing her when all was done. And Aunt Susan was sitting near her—very white and still had Aunt Susan been after listening to Ally’s rapid exclamations and explanations. For Aunt Susan had come out on the lawn in wonder at the little girl Uncle Billy was bringing and the sight of a tiny baby in Pincher’s arms, and Ally had run forward, all eagerness, with the strangest words:

“Oh, Aunt Susan, I’ve got you back your baby! This little girl—she is one of the Children of the Hill—she was bringing it home; and I met her and told her about us all, and how you had wanted it and wanted it.”

When Old Uncle came up, Aunt Susan was holding the baby, who, none the worse for his out-door life, was looking up at her as if the first thing of which he had ever taken notice was the mother-love in her eyes.

But Aunt Rose had been down to meet Old Uncle.

“Oh!” Aunt Rose had cried, “there are two children here, right out of the depths—though how in the world they came here I haven’t yet made out, except that the little girl—and she’s the merest mite herself—lugged the baby all the way from the city. Ally was up there in the hollow and found them. It’s fortunate that there are such good Institutions”—

“No, no, no!” interrupted Ally, who, very proud of herself, had also come to meet Old Uncle. “She can’t go to a ’statution. She’s afraid of them. If she doesn’t go back among the Children of the Hill, she’s going to stay here. I asked her to. She belongs to me. I went up and found her! And she has brought Aunt Susan’s baby.”

Aunt Susan glanced up as Old Uncle approached. And Old Uncle stopped a moment, and looked at the smile on her face.

“If there weren’t so many children here now,” Essie was saying tremulously, half pleading.

“There’s not a child too many!” said that surprising Old Uncle then, patting Essie’s brown head. “All we needed was another little girl and the Baby. Did she bring that child the whole way in her arms? Well, she needn’t carry him any farther. It wouldn’t be possible for them to make any louder noise than we have now. They are going to stay with us, and make two more Children of the Valley.”

Transcriber’s Note: Obvious punctuation errors repaired.