"This is our greatest misfortune since the donation of the thirty-seven
little red plaid shawls. Well, good-night. By the way, what's his name?"

"Patsy Dennis. I shall take him. I'll tell you more on Monday. Please
step into Gilbert's and buy a comfortable little cane-seated armchair,
larger than these, and ask one of your good Samaritans to make a soft
cushion for it. We'll give him the table that we had made for Johnny
Cass. Poor Johnny! I am sorry he has a successor so soon."

In five minutes I was taking my homeward walk, mind and heart full of my
elfish visitor, with his strange and ancient thoughts, his sharp
speeches and queer fancies. Would he ever come back, or would one of
those terrible spasms end his life before I was permitted to help and
ease his crooked body, or pour a bit of mother-love into his starved
little heart?

[Illustration: MISS HELEN.]




CHAPTER IV.

BEHIND THE SCENES.

Some children are like little human scrawl-books, blotted all over
with the sins and mistakes of their ancestors.