Her gentle voice had always power to soothe and calm him.

He obeyed her implicitly, and, like a frightened child, holding fast to her hand would beg piteously for her to protect and save him.
But no word of the man's low-muttered, broken sentences, nor of his wildest ravings, ever gave Auntie Sue a clue to his identity.

She searched his clothes, but there was not a thing to give her even his name.
And, yet, that first day, when Judy would have gone to neighbor Tom's for help, Auntie Sue said "No." She even positively forbade the girl to mention the stranger's presence in the house, should she chance to talk with passing neighbors.

"The river brought him to us, Judy, dear," she said.

"We must save him.