ylish carriage came dashing along. The horses shied at some
object, and the pole of the carriage struck Arch and knocked him down.
The driver drew in the horses with an imprecation.

Arch picked himself up, and stood recovering his scattered senses,
leaning against a lamp-post.

"Served ye right!" said the coachman roughly. "You'd no business to be
running befront of folkses carriages."

"Stop!" said a clear voice inside the coach. "What has occurred, Peter?"

"Only a ragged boy knocked down; but he's up again all right. Shall
I drive on? You will be late to the concert."

"I shall survive it, if I am," said the voice. "Get down and open the
door. I must see if the child is hurt."

"It's no child, miss; it is a boy older than yourself," said the man,
surlily obeying the command.

Margie Harrison descended to the pavement. From the sweet voice, Arch had
almost expected to see _her_. A flush of grateful admiration lit up his
face. She beamed upon him like a star from the depths of the clouds.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, kindly. "It was very careless of Peter to let
the carriage strike you. Allow us to take you home."

"Thank you," he said. "I am close to where I work, and I am not hurt. It
is only a trifling bruise."

Something familiar about him seemed to strike her; she looked at him with
a strangely puzzled face, but he gave her no light.

"Is there nothing we can do for you?" she asked, at length.

A great presumption almost took his breath away. He gave it voice on the
moment, afraid if he waited he should lack the courage.

"If you will give me the cluster of bluebells in your belt--"

She looked surprised, hesitated a moment, then laid them in his hand. He
bowed, and was lost in the crowd.

That night when he got home he found Mat worse. She had been failing for
a long time. She was a large girl now, with great preternaturally bright
eyes, and a spot of crimson in each hollow cheek.

It was more than three months since she had been able to do anything, and
Grandma Rugg was very harsh and severe with her in consequence. There
were black and blue places on her shoulders now where she had been
beaten, but Arch did not know it. Mat never spoke to him about her
sufferings, because it distressed him so, and made him very angry with
the old woman.

He went in and sat down on the straw beside Mat; and almost before he
knew it he was telling her about Margie Harrison. He always brought all
his joys and s