His lips and cheeks flamed,
while his eyes flashed with excitement.
"Angel," he panted. "Oh Angel! Did you find them? Are they white? Are
the little stitches there? OH ANGEL! DID ME MOTHER LOVE ME?"
The words seemed to leap from his burning lips. The Angel dropped the
bundle on the bed and laid the picture face down across his knees.
She gently pushed his head to the pillow and caught his arms in a firm
grasp.
"Yes, dear heart," she said with fullest assurance. "No little clothes
were ever whiter. I never in all my life saw such dainty, fine, little
stitches; and as for loving you, no boy's mother ever loved him more!"
A nervous trembling seized Freckles.
"Sure? Are you sure?" he urged with clicking teeth.
"I know," said the Angel firmly. "And Freckles, while you rest and be
glad, I want to tell you a story. When you feel stronger we will look at
the clothes together. They are here. They are all right. But while I
was at the Home getting them, I heard of some people that were hunting
a lost boy. I went to see them, and what they told me was all so exactly
like what might have happened to you that I must tell you.
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