Miss Hazy was the submerged tenth of the Cabbage Patch. The submersion
was mainly one of dirt and disorder, but Miss Hazy was such a meek,
inefficient little body that the Cabbage Patch withheld its blame and
patiently tried to furnish a prop for the clinging vine. Miss Hazy, it
is true, had Chris; but Chris was unstable, not only because he had
lost one leg, but also because he was the wildest, noisiest, most
thoughtless youngster that ever shied a rock at a lamp-post. Miss Hazy
had "raised" Chris, and the neighbors had raised Miss Hazy.

When Lovey Mary stumbled over the Hazy threshold with the sleeping
Tommy and the duck in her arms, Miss Hazy fluttered about in dismay.
She pushed the flour-sifter farther over on the bed and made a place
for Tommy, then she got a chair for the exhausted girl and hovered
about her with little chirps of consternation.

"Dear sakes! You're done tuckered out, ain't you? You an' the baby got
losted? Ain't that too bad! Must I make you some tea? Only there ain't
no fire in the stove. Dear me! what ever will I do? Jes wait a minute;
I'll have to go ast Mis' Wiggs."

In a few minutes Miss Hazy returned. With her was a bright-faced
little woman whose smile seemed to thaw out the frozen places in Lovey
Mary's heart and make her burst into tears on the motherly bosom.

"There now, there," said Mrs. Wiggs, hugging the girl up close and
patting her on the back; "there ain't no hole so deep can't somebody
pull you out. An' here's me an' Miss Hazy jes waitin' to give you a
h'ist."

There was something so heartsome in her manner that Lovey Mary dried