think, like the rest of us, she's so glad to be
back. One day she gave me a dollar and said I must spend it for candy,
but I haven't yet. Do you think I ought to have told Mrs. Borden?"

"Why, not necessarily."

"I'm not so very fond of candy. There's a beautiful book of fairy
stories in a store down town that I'd like. Only Jack takes every
thing, and he keeps asking if I haven't a penny when we go out. His
mother doesn't give him pennies to spend, and a very good thing,
too."

"What kind of books do you read to the old lady?"

"Well, you see it's this way, she reads on pages and pages and puts in
a mark, then I go on where she left off and so I don't get the real
sense of the story. They seem to have a good deal of trouble. I'd
rather read about little girls who went to their grandmother's and had
nice times, and beautiful verses full of music such as you used to
read."

Miss Armitage laughed pleasantly. "We'll have some nice reading again.
And you ought to go to school."

"But you see I can't. I look over Jack's books and I write on pieces
of paper. I don't know how to spell all the words. Oh, I wrote a
letter to Dr. Richards. He asked me to, and he sent such a nice
answer. I did want to write again, but I hadn't any paper nor postage
stamp, and I didn't like to ask the second time. Oh, I might buy some
with my dollar, mightn't I?"

"I'll do you up a little package. He wants to see you, so I'll ask him
to come here and let you know. And sometimes when you are out with the
babies you must stop here and let me see them, and I'll call and see
you all."

"Oh, how nice that will be. I'm so glad you love me. For I never shall
be like the girls who have pretty homes and parents to love them. But
you'll be the fairy godmother always, won't you?"

"Yes, dear," in a soft tone.

"And now I must go. It's so sweet to know that some one really loves
you even if you are a bound-out girl. And now I'm beginning to count
the years."

Miss Armitage kissed her and watched her tripping down the steps. She
was worthy of a better fate. Would she love the hand that set her in
pleasanter places and not come to think wholly of self? For she, woman
past thirty, as she was, longed for a little daughter's love, a
daughter to grow up along side of her, to share her very life.

The babies went out walking up and down the block one day and took no
harm. Violet was wild to run away, as Jack had been, and so was quite
a care. Then th