"Yes!" cried Katy, delighted. "Sometimes I run errands for a
dressmaker who lives in the block below us, and she gives me pennies,
or once in a while a nickel. And when my aunt's husband comes to see
us--he's a widder man and sorter rich; he drives a truck,--well, when
he comes 'casionally, he gives each of us children as much as ten
cents; and I guess he'll be round about Christmas time. Oh, yes, I'm
almost sure I can make up the twenty-two cents!"

"But, then, when the doll is yours, won't you hate to give it away?"
queried Julia; for Katy already began to assume an air of possession.

"Oh, not to Ellie! And, you know, she'll be sure to let me hold it
sometimes" was the ingenuous reply.

The quick tears sprang to the salesgirl's eyes, and she turned abruptly
away, to arrange some dolls upon the shelves behind her.

"After all, love is better than riches," she reflected, as the picture
of the crippled child in the humble home arose in her mind, and she
gave a sidelong glance at Katy's thin face and shabby dress.

"You will be sure to save this very doll for me, won't you?" pleaded
the child.

"I can't put it aside for you," she explained, "because the
floor-walker would not allow that; but I'll arrange so you will have
one of the lot, never fear."

"But I want this one," declared Katy.