he pity of the sunlight on it. She wept not now for the terror
and hatefulness of the Weblings' fate, but for the beautiful things
that would bless them no more, for the roses that would glow unseen,
the flowers that would climb old walls and lean out unheeded, asking
to be admired and proffering fragrance in payment of praise. The
Weblings were henceforth immune to the pleasant rumble of wagons in
streets, to the cheery good mornings of passers-by, the savor of
coffee in the air, the luscious colors of fruits piled upon silver
dishes.

Then she heard a scamper of bare feet, the squeals of mischief-making
children escaping from a pursuing nurse.

It had been a favorite pastime of Victor and Bettina to break in upon
Marie Louise of mornings when she forgot to lock her door. They loved
to steal in barefoot and pounce on her with yelps of savage delight
and massacre her, pull her hair and dance upon her bed and on her as
she pleaded for mercy.

She heard them coming now, and she could not reach the door before it
opened and disclosed the grinning, tousle-curled cherubs in their
sleeping-suits.

They darted in, only to fall back in amazement. Marie Louise was not
in bed. The bed had not been slept in. Marie Louise was all dressed,
and she had been crying. And in a chair sat a strange, formidable old
gentleman who looked tired and forlorn.

"Auntie!" they gasped.

She dropped to her knees, and they ran to her for refuge from the
strange man.

She hugged them so hard that they cried, "Don't!"

Without in the least understanding what it was all about, they heard
her saying to the man:

"And now what's to become of these poor lambs?"

The old stranger passed a slow gray hand across his dismal face and
pondered.

The children pointed, then remembered that it is impolite to point,
and drew back their little index hands and whispered:

"Auntie, what you up so early for?" and, "Who is that?"

And she whispered, "S-h-h!"

Being denied the answer to this charade, they took up a new interest.

"I wonder is grandpapa up, too, and all dressed," said Victor.

"And maybe grandmamma," Bettina shrilled.

"I'll beat you to their room," said Victor.

Marie Louise seized them by their hinder garments as they fled.

"You must not bother them."

"Why not?" said Victor.

"Will so!" said Bettina, pawing to be free.

Marie Louise implored: "Please, please! They've gone."

"Where?"

She cast her eyes up at that terri