Monday morning came as mornings do come, bringing to the overworked body
and mind a certain languor difficult to shake off. As I walked down the
dirty little street, with its rows of old-clothes shops, saloons, and
second-hand-furniture stores, I called several of my laggards, and gave
them a friendly warning. "Quarter of nine, Mrs. Finnigan!" "Bless me
soul, darlin'! Well, I will hurry up my childern, that I will; but the
baby was that bad with whoopin'-cough last night that I never got three
winks meself, darlin'!"

"All right; never mind the apron; let Jimmy walk on with me, and I will
give him one at school." Jimmy trots proudly at my side, munching a bit
of baker's pie and carrying my basket. I drop into Mrs. Powers' suite of
apartments in Rosalie Alley, and find Lafayette Powers still in bed. His
twelve-year-old sister and guardian, Hildegarde, has over-slept, as
usual, and breakfast is not in sight. Mrs. Powers goes to a dingy office
up town at eight o'clock, her present mission in life being the healing
of the nations by means of mental science. It is her fourth vocation in
two years, the previous ones being tissue-paper flowers, lustre
painting, and the agency for a high-class stocking supporter. I scold
Hildegarde roundly, and she scrambles sleepily about the room to find a
note that Mrs. Powers has left for me. I rejoin my court in the street,
and open the letter with anticipation.

Miss Kate.

Dear Maddam.--You complane of Lafayette's never getting to school till
eleven o'clock. It is not my affare as Hildegarde has _full charge_ of
him and I _never_ intefear, but I would sujjest that if you _beleeve_ in
him he will do better. Your unbeleef sapps his _will powers_. you have
only reprooved him for being late. why not incurrage him say by _paying_