you."

Bravely the child marched out of the room, out of the front door and
gate. There Lita handed her the gun; but after trying several times to
walk with it, she told Lita that she didn't know as she should care for
any wolf wish-bone with her butter crackers, and asked her to take the
gun back in the house, and then she banged the gate, hoping Mary saw
her, with an air of importance, and pattered off on a fast little
dog-trot down the street.

Meanwhile we were all watching her behind the blinds.

"Don't lose sight of her," said mamma, "but don't let her see you!"

This is what Lita saw. A sturdy little figure walking steadily onward,
never looking back. At length it stops, opens the little purse, counts
its money, but never noting that in the trouble with the clasps the
three little coins fall, like three silver rain drops, to the pavement.
It goes on and on, till Lita fears it will really go out of sight. Then
the little figure "slows up" again, opens the little purse, and stops
short!

Ah, the horrors of poverty! Lita understands the poor little irresolute
figure. No money means no butter crackers, and no butter crackers means
despair. The little steps come homeward. The blue eyes are bent on the
ground. She does not know that grandpa has come quietly up behind her,
and found each little silver piece.

The little rebel appeared in the hall just as dinner was carried in.
There was a most savory odor of fricassee. Grandma and mamma and Lita