"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, pointing to them reverently. "Look at all the
Blessed Virgins!"

The children laughed. She stood looking at them with a little frown,
not having quite made up her mind whether to join in their mirth, or to
be vexed. When her mistake was explained to her, she said, with a pout:

"Well, if they are not Blessed Virgins, then I don't care about them,
and I'm going home."

The children had promptly sent a note to Father Dominic thanking him
for his appropriate May-Day gift. Each had a share in the composition
of this acknowledgment, but it had been carefully copied by Abby.
Later they had the satisfaction of showing him the oratory. While
Claire was with them, he happened to call again one evening just as the
young people were saying good-night.

"Larry," whispered Abby, when they went upstairs and she knelt with her
brother and cousin before the little altar,--"Larry, let's say our
prayers real loud, so Father Dominic will know how good we've got to be
since we've had the lovely statue."

"All right," said Larry, obediently.

They began, Abby leading off in clear, distinct accents, and Larry
following in a heavy alto; for his voice was unusually deep and
sonorous for such a little fellow. Baby Claire listened wonderingly.
Then, apparently making up her mind that the clamor was due to the
intensity of their fervor, she joined with her shrill treble, and