A second later, George McCabe came rushing into the room. I began recovering from my daze, then and indulged in a little observation. So, for the grand finale of the story, I had a few mental details which Jimmy did not give the Editor. "Mary, my girl!" cried George, "you're safe—and we've got the others. The policemen have harmed the lot—and your George has helped his bit toward getting back the money for the bank—so that's all right!" He was unfastening the knots which bound her to the chair as he spoke, and a second later she was clinging to him, laughing and crying and telling him all in one breath that she loved him and that she would never be glad enough she'd written to Miss Fairfax. "Bee-trice Fairfax!" cried George almost incredulously. "I didn't think there was such a person not a real lady anyhow, like you, ma'am."
"However, you see she's real now, don't you, Mr. McCabe?" laughed Jimmy, making as if to imitate that gentleman's affectionate clasp of Mary—but with me for the recipient of his ardor.
I smiled and withdrew. Jimmy Barton was a clever lad—there was no doubt of that, but as I had told Granny a few hours before my work was my life.
May I make so bold to ask Miss, how you came to do it? The Adage to the Lovelorn?" asked George Mc a be with respectful curiosity.
"Oh, it was always a dream of mine to try to."  Help other folks a little bit," said I. 