was the first time he had seen her in anything but white.

Her attention was all upon the children, whom he, perhaps, had
more or less banished to Cracklimbo.

"Where are they going?" she repeated, trouble in her voice and
in her eyes.

Peter collected himself.

"The children? I don't know--I didn't ask. Home, aren't
they?"

"Home? Oh, no. They don't live hereabouts," she said. "I
know all the poor of this neighbourhood.--Ohe there! Children!
Children!" she cried.

But they were quite a hundred yards away, and did not hear.

"Do you wish them to come back?" asked Peter.

"Yes--of course," she answered, with a shade of impatience.

He put his fingers to his lips (you know the schoolboy
accomplishment), and gave a long whistle.

That the children did hear.

They halted, and turned round, looking, enquiring.