"You told me," said Mrs. Brown, "but I don't see how that--"

"Well, you see, their ringleader has been particularly ungracious to
me. A fine, superb, big creature she is, named Alice Carter. This
Alice came up to the children and me in the street the other day,
and told me, in the gruffest manner, that she was interested in a
little crippled girl over there, and had promised to take her to see
the Flower Festival. But it seems the child's mother was afraid to
trust her to Alice in the crowd and heat. Quite simply she asked me
if I could manage it. I was tremendously touched, and we went to see
the child. She's a poor, brave little scrap--twelve years old, did
she say, Baby?"

"Going on thirteen," said Ellen rapidly; "and her father is dead,
and her mother works, and she takes care of such a fat baby, and she
is very gen-tul with him, isn't she, Mother? And she cried when
Mother gave her books, and she can't eat her lunch because her back
aches, but she gave the baby his lunch, and Mother asked her if she
would let a doctor fix her back, and she said, 'Oh, no!'--didn't
she, Mother? She just twisted and twisted her hands, and said, 'I
can't.' And Mother said, 'Mary, if you will be a brave girl about
the doctor, I will make you a pink dress and a wreath of roses, and
you shall ride with the others in the Flower Festibul!' And she just
said, 'Oo-oo!'--didn't she, Mother? And she said she thought God
sent you, didn't she, Mother?"

"She did." Mrs. Burgoyne smiled through wet lashes. Mrs. Brown wiped
her own eyes against the baby's fluffy mop. "She's a most pathetic
little creature, this Mary Scott," went on the other woman when