But I can tell you now--if you'll bear up under a shock ?" "Go on, my friend." "I've got little Fay! Alive--bad hurt--but she'll live!" Jane Withersteen's dead-locked feeling, rent by Lassiter's deep, quivering voice, leaped into an agony of sensitive life.
"Here," he added, and showed her where little Fay lay on the grass.
Unable to speak, unable to stand, Jane dropped on her knees.

By that long, beautiful golden hair Jane recognized the beloved Fay.

But Fay's loveliness was gone.

Her face was drawn and looked old with grief.

But she was not dead--her heart beat--and Jane Withersteen gathered strength and lived again.
"You see I jest had to go after Fay," Lassiter was saying, as he knelt to bathe her little pale face.