She shivered as she questioned her imaginary children. "Now we
are at home again," she said, and led the dolls to the empty
fireplace. "Roaring fires always in _my_ house," cried the
resolute little creature, rubbing her hands cheerfully before the
bleak blank grate.

Warm-hearted Lizzie could control herself no longer.

"If the child would only make some complaint," she burst out, "it
wouldn't be so dreadful! Oh, what a shame! what a shame!" she
cried, to the astonishment of little Syd. "Come down, my dear, to
the nice warm room where your brother is. Oh, your mother? I
don't care if your mother sees us; I should like to give your
mother a piece of my mind. There! I don't mean to frighten you;
I'm one of your bad children--I fly into a passion. You carry the
dolls and I'll carry _you_. Oh, how she shivers! Give us a kiss."

Sympathy which expressed itself in this way was new to Syd. Her
eyes opened wide in childish wonder--and suddenly closed again in
childish terror, when her good friend the servant passed Mrs.
Westerfield's door on the way downstairs. "If mamma bounces out
on us," she whispered, "pretend we don't see her." The nice warm
room received them in safety. Under no stress of circumstances
had Mrs. Westerfield ever been known to dress herself in a hurry.
A good half-hour more had passed before the house door was heard
to bang--and the pleasant landlady, peeping through the window,
said: "There she goes. Now, we'll enjoy ourselves!"

5.--The Landlord.