[Illustration: On the way to the Center]


So the three went to the Center, the girl carrying Sally, and
Jimmie hobbling along in sulky silence.

Jimmie had stayed so much at home that he didn't know how to
behave with strangers. Because he didn't want anyone to guess
that he was bashful, he frowned fiercely. Because he didn't want
anyone to think him "sissy," he had his wavy hair clipped till his
head looked like a golf ball. He was a queer, unhappy boy.

He was unhappier when they reached the big, bright, shabby house
that was the Center. Could it be safe to let Sally mingle with
the ragged, dirty children who were flocking in, he wondered?

His anxiety soon vanished. The babies were bathed and the bigger
children sent to rows of wash-basins. In a jiffy, clean babies
lay taking their bottles in clean baskets and clean children were
dressed in clean play-suits.

Besides the yellow-haired girl (her name was Miss Abbott, but
Jimmie never called her anything but "Her" and "She"), there were
two girls and an older woman, all busy. When clean-up time was
past and the babies asleep, the older ones had a worship service
with songs and stories.

After worship came play. Outdoors were sandpiles and swings.