azed in silence at the forlorn scene before them. Then they
looked at each other. Hildegarde gave an expressive little shake to the
basket. Rose smiled and nodded; then they hugged each other a little,
which was a foolish way they had when they were pleased. Very cautiously
Hildegarde pushed the crazy door open, and they stood in the melancholy
little hovel. All was even dirtier and more squalid than it had looked
from outside; but the girls did not mind it now, for they had an idea,
which had come perhaps to both at the same moment. Hilda looked about
for a broom, and finally found the dilapidated skeleton of one. Rose,
realizing at once that search for a duster would be fruitless, pulled a
double handful of long grass from the front yard, and the two laid about
them,--one vigorously, the other carefully and thoroughly. Dust flew
from doors and windows; the girls sneezed and coughed, but persevered,
till the little room at last began to look as if it might once have been
habitable.

"Now you have done enough, Rosy!" cried Hildegarde. "Sit down on the
doorstep and make a posy, while I finish."

Rose, being rather tired, obeyed. Hildegarde then looked for a
scrubbing-brush, but finding none, was obliged to give the little black
table such a cleaning as she could with the broom and bunches of grass.
Behind the house was a lilac-bush, covered with lovely fragrant clusters
of blossoms; she gathered a huge bunch of them, and putting them in a
broken pitcher with water, set them in the middle of the table.
Meanwhile Rose had found two or three peonies and some sweet-william,
and with these and some ribbon-grass had made quite a brilliant bouquet,
which was laid beside the one cracked plate which the cupboard afforded.
On this plate the sandwiches were neatly piled, and the turnovers (all
but two, which the girls ate, partly out of gratitude to Martha, but
chiefly because they were good) were laid on a cluster of green leaves.
As for the milk, that, Hildegarde declared, Rose must and should drink;
and she stood over her till she tilted the bottle back and drained the
last drop.

"Oh, dear!" said Rose, looking sadly at the empty bottle; "I hope the
poor thing doesn't like milk. It couldn't be a child, Hildegarde, could
it? living here all alone. And anyhow he--or she--will have a better
dinner than one onion and--" But here she broke off, and uttered a low
cry of dismay. "Oh, Hilda! Hilda! look there!"

Hildegarde turned ha