Mother shook her head. "I don't know, I'm sure. There isn't a child on
this street who doesn't go to Sunday-school."

"P'r'aps one will move on," said Francie hopefully.

But when a new family did move to that street there were no children
in it.

One day Francie came flying into the house. "Oh. mother, the ash-man's
here and I b'lieve he's got a fish with him!"

"What?" exclaimed mother, but when she looked out she understood.
Sitting in the ash-man's cart was a pretty little boy, with black eyes
and tight curly hair.

"Is he yours. Mr. Lugi?" mother asked, and the ash-man smiled and
nodded:

"Yes. mine--my Rafael."

"Does he go to Sunday-school?" put in Francie eagerly.

"No, no school--too little, him."

"Oh, but it's just Sundays and we sing and there's pictures. Couldn't
he please go with me. Mr. Lugi?" begged Francie, "I'll take awful good
care of him."

Mother explained a little more, and at last Mr. Lugi said Rafael might