lutching, and tumbling about, while the good matron looked on well
pleased.

"What's them?" asked one tiny boy, holding up his bunch.

"Those are pansies!" answered Hildegarde. "There are little faces in
them, do you see? They smile when the sun shines, and when children are
good."

"Nein," said a small voice from the outside of the circle, "dat iss
Stiefmuetterlein!"

"Du Bluemlein fein!" cried Hildegarde. "Yes, to be sure. Come here,
little German boy, and we will tell the others about the pretty German
name."

[Illustration: "SO DOWN PLUMPED HILDEGARDE."]

A roly-poly lad of six, with flaxen hair and bright blue eyes, came
forward shyly, and after some persuasion was induced to sit down in
Hildegarde's lap. "See now!" she said to the others; "this pansy has a
different name in Germany, where this boy--"

"Namens Fritzerl!" murmured the urchin, nestling closer to the wonderful
Fraeulein who knew German.

"Where Fritzerl came from. There they call it 'Stiefmuetterlein,' which
means 'little stepmother.' Shall I tell you why? See! In front here are
three petals just alike, with the same colors and the same marking.
These are the stepmother and her own two daughters; and here, behind,
are the two step-daughters, standing in the background, but keeping
close together like loving sisters. I hope the little stepmother is kind
to them, don't you?"

"I've got one!" piped up a little girl with a crutch. "She's real good,
she is. Only she washes my face 'most all day long, 'cause she's 'feared
she won't do her duty by me. She brought me red jelly yesterday, and a
noil-cloth bib, so's I wouldn't spill it on my dress. My dress 's new!"
she added, edging up to Hildegarde, and holding up a red merino skirt
with orange spots.

"I see it is," said Hilda, admiringly; "and so bright and warm, isn't
it?"

"I've got a grandma to home!" cried another shrill voice. "She makes
splendid mittens! She makes cookies too."

"My Uncle Jim's got a wooden leg!" chimed in another. "He got it falling
off a mast. He kin drive tacks with it, he kin. When I'm big I'm going
to fall off a mast and git a wooden leg. You kin make lots o' noise with
it."

"My grandma's got a wig!" said the former speaker, in triumph. "I
pulled it off one day. She was just like an aig on top. Are you like an
aig on top?"

Here followed a gentle pull at one of Hildegarde's smooth braids, and
she sprang up, feeling quite sure that her hair would stay on, but