ut rusted to a brick-color in patches and
streaks. They were so riveted together that through them could be seen
small, regular spots of light. Later on, as Gwendolyn knew, floors and
windowed walls and a tin top would be fitted to the framework. And what
was now a skeleton would be another house!

Directly opposite the nursery, on that part of the side street which
sloped, were ten narrow houses, each four stories high, each with
brown-stone fronts and brown-stone steps, each topped by a large chimney
and a small chimney. In every detail these ten houses were precisely
alike. Jane, for some unaccountable reason, referred to them as private
dwellings. But since the roof of the second brown-stone house was just a
foot lower than the roof of the first, the third roof just a foot lower
than the roof of the second, and so on to the very tenth and last,
Gwendolyn called these ten the step-houses.

The step-houses were seldom interesting. As Gwendolyn's glances traveled
now from brown-stone front to brown-stone front, not one presented even
the relief of a visiting post-man.

Her progress down the line of step-houses brought her by degrees to the
brick house on the Drive--a large vine-covered house, the wide entrance
of which was toward the river. And no sooner had she given it one quick
glance than she uttered a little shout of pleased surprise. The
brick-house people were back!

All the shades were up. There was smoke rising from one of the four tall
chimneys. And even as Gwendolyn gazed, all absorbed interest, the net
curtains at an upper window were suddenly drawn aside and a face looked
out.

It was a face that Gwendolyn had never seen before in the brick house.
But though it was strange, it was entirely friendly. For as Gwendolyn
smiled it a greeting, it smiled her a greeting back!

She was a nurse-maid--so much was evident from the fact that she wore a
cap. But it was also plain that her duties differed in some way from
Jane's. For her cap was different--shaped like a sugar-bowl turned
upside-down; hollow, and white, and marred by no flying strings.

And she was not a red-haired nurse-maid. Her hair was almost as fair as
Gwendolyn's own, and it framed her face in a score of saucy wisps and
curls. Her face was pretty--full and rosy, like the face of Gwendolyn's
French doll. Also it seemed certain--even at such a distance--that she
had no freckles. Gwendolyn waved both hands at her. She threw a kiss
back.

"Oh,