Part 32 (1/2)

”Yes, I am Mildred Pa.s.samore. My father is Jared Pa.s.samore of San Francisco. I don't know why I am here, except that I was hurt in the railroad accident. If you will telegraph to my father, at the Palace Hotel, San Francisco, he will come and get me. And please tell him to bring my doll, Estelle Brown.

”I know it seems silly for a big girl like me to have a doll,” went on the injured one. ”But ever since I was a child I have had Estelle with me when I was ill. I am ill now, but I feel better than I did. So telegraph to Daddy Pa.s.samore to bring Estelle Brown with him when he comes for me. And tell him I was not badly hurt in the wreck.”

And with that, before the wondering eyes of the nurse, of Alice and of Ruth, Estelle Brown--no--Mildred Pa.s.samore, turned over and calmly went to sleep!

For an instant those in the hospital room neither moved nor spoke. Then Alice cried:

”That solves it! That ends the mystery! I'll go and get the paper.”

”What paper?” asked Ruth.

”Don't you remember? The old paper that I wrapped my scout shoes in when we were packing to come to Oak Farm. The one that father saved because it had a theatrical notice of him in it.

”It was that four-year-old paper which contained an account of the strange disappearance of the wealthy San Francisco girl, Mildred Pa.s.samore. Don't you remember? There was a reward of ten thousand dollars offered for her discovery.”

”Oh, I do remember!” gasped Ruth. ”And this is she!”

”Must be!” declared Alice. ”She says that's her name. And from what she told us she can, as Estelle Brown, think back only about four years. She must have received some injury that took away her memory. Now she is herself again.

”Ruth, I believe we have found the missing Mildred Pa.s.samore! We must tell daddy at once, and Mr. Pertell. Then we must telegraph Mr.

Pa.s.samore. I'll get his address from the old paper. But the Palace Hotel, San Francisco, will reach him, I presume. Oh, isn't it all wonderful!”

”It certainly is,” agreed Ruth.

They gave one glance at the sleeping girl--Mildred or Estelle--and then went out, while Miss Lyon summoned Dr. Wherry to acquaint him with the strange turn of the case.

”Mildred Pa.s.samore found! How wonderful!” exclaimed Mr. DeVere, when his daughters told him what had happened. ”But we must make sure. It would be a sad affair if we sent word to the father, and it turned out that this girl was not his daughter. We must make sure.”

Alice got out the old paper. It contained a description of the missing Mildred Pa.s.samore, and in another newspaper dated a few days before the one Alice had used as a wrapper for her shoes (another paper which Mr.

DeVere had saved because of a notice in it) was a picture of the girl.

”It is she! Our girl--the one we knew as Estelle Brown--is Mildred Pa.s.samore!” cried Alice as she looked at the picture in the paper.

”There is no doubt of it,” agreed Ruth, and Mr. DeVere affirmed his daughters' opinions.

Mr. Pertell was told of the occurrence, and, being a good judge of pictures and persons, he decided there was no doubt as to the ident.i.ty.

”We will telegraph to Mr. Pa.s.samore at once,” decided the director.

The crisis--for such it was in the case of the injured girl--seemed to mark a turn for the better. She slept nearly forty-eight hours, awakening only to take a little nourishment. Then she slept again. She did not again mention any names, nor, in fact, anything else. Her friends could only wait for the arrival of Mr. Pa.s.samore to have him make sure of the ident.i.ty.

He had sent a message in answer to the one from Mr. Pertell saying that he and his wife were hastening across the continent in a special train.

”That means he hasn't found his daughter up to this time,” said the manager, ”and there is every chance that this girl is she.”

Three days after her startling announcement Estelle or Mildred, as she was variously called, was much better. She sat up and seemed to be in her right mind.

”I don't in the least know what it is all about, nor how I came here,”

she said, smiling. ”The last I remember is being in a railroad train on my way from San Francisco to visit relatives in Seattle. There was a crash, and the next I knew I found myself in bed here. I presume you brought me here from the train wreck.”