"See you, my children? Did I not tell you that the Lord knew about
the panaderia? It is he who sends all this good to us who deserve it
not."




MISS STRATTON'S PAPER


The wind was blowing quite keenly from the north, and Miss Stratton
had the collar of her coat turned up, as she hurried through the
darkness of the avenue. She was talking behind her coat collar, the
tips of which brushed her lips. If what Miss Stratton said had been
audible to any one beside herself, it would have sounded as if she
were talking severely to somebody.

"I don't see why you can't throw that evening paper where we can
find it!" Miss Stratton was saying under her breath. "We have a
broad walk, and there's plenty of room! I've been out in the yard
three or four times to-night, and hunted thoroughly, and mother's
been out once. Mother's eyes are poor, and she likes to have the
paper before dark."

Miss Stratton caught her breath in the cold wind. She hastened by a
gas-lamp, climbed the hill, and found her way in darkness up the
long steps of a house. She fumbled for the bell and rang it. There
was a little stir within, the opening of an interior door to let
light into the hall, and then a boy's step. The front door opened.