But let a rival
collector march forth with igniting enthusiasm and proclaim a desire
for the scorned objects, and that very moment does the possessor
tighten his grip on them and add a decimal or two to their value. So
was it with the trustees of Saint Margaret's. For the first time in
their lives they desired the incurable ward and wished to retain it.

"Not only do we intend to keep the children, but there are many
improvements I shall suggest to the board when there is more time. I
should like to insist on a more careful supervision of--curious
visitors." And the Oldest Trustee raised her lorgnette and compassed
the gathering with a look that challenged dispute.

Margaret MacLean's face became unaccountably old and tired. The vision
that had seemed so close, so tangible, so ready to be made actual, had
suddenly retreated beyond her reach, and she was left as empty of heart
and hand as she had been before. For a moment her whole figure seemed
to crumple; and then she shook herself together into a resisting,
fighting force again.

"You can't keep the children, after this. Think, think what it means
to them--a home in the country, on a hilltop, trees and birds and
flowers all about. Many of them could wheel themselves out of doors,
and the others could have hammocks and cots under the trees. Forget
for this once that you are trustees, and think what it means to the
children."

"But can't you understand?" urged the President, "we feel a special
interest in these children. They are beginning to belong to us--as you
do, yourself, for that matter."

The little-girl look came rushing into Margaret MacLean's face,
flooding it with wistfulness. "It's a little hard to believe--this
belonging to anybody. Yesterday I seemed to be the only person who
wanted me at all, and I wasn't dreadfully keen about it myself." Then
she clapped her hands with the suddenness of an idea. "After all, it's
the children who are really most concerned. Why shouldn't we ask them?
Of course I know it is very much out of the accustomed order of things,
but why not try it? Couldn't we?"

Anxiously she scanned the faces about her. There was surprise,
amusement, but no dissent. The Disagreeable Trustee smiled secretly
behind his hand; it appealed to his latent sense of humor.

"It would be rather a Balaam and his ass affair, but, as Miss MacLean
suggests, why not try it?" he asked.

Margaret MacLean did not wait an instant longer