which was even noble. Content, little lonely girl
among strangers in a strange place, mutely beseech-
ing love and pity, from her whole attitude toward
life and the world, looked up at Edward Patterson
and Sally, and the rector realized that his determina-
tion was giving way. He began to believe in imagi-
nation, even to the extent of a sister Solly. He had
never had a daughter, and sometimes the thought
of one had made his heart tender. His voice was
very kind when he spoke.

"Well, little girl," he said, "what is this I hear?"

Sally stared at her husband and stifled a chuckle.

As for Content, she looked at the rector and said
nothing. It was obvious that she did not know
what he had heard. The rector explained.

"My dear little girl," he said, "your aunt Sally"
-- they had agreed upon the relationship of uncle and
aunt to Content -- "tells me that you have been
telling her about your -- big sister Solly." The rector
half gasped as he said Solly. He seemed to himself
to be on the driveling verge of idiocy before the pro-
nunciation of that absurdly inane name.

Content's responding voice came from the pink-
and-white nest in which she was snuggled, like the
fluting pipe of a canary.