me to
choose all sorts of nice things in the shops. They will be so
disappointed if I don't get it back in time to buy something before we
have to start home. It seemed so safe in a brown money-bag, you know;
at least it was really Betty's shoe-bag, only she took them out and put
them in her drawer. I don't think Nurse knew she had done it. But
what I wanted to tell you was, that I believe I can find it in a minute
if you will only let me run down to your cellar."

It is to be feared that the old woman understood even less than she
heard of this long speech. One sentence, however, reached her ears,
and to this she replied.

"I haven't any cellar, miss," she said.

"But--but--" Madge did not dare contradict her flatly. Yet there was
the grating in the pavement outside. "Please come to the door a
minute," she cried, "and I will show you what I mean, Mrs-- Oh, I am
so sorry! I don't know your name!"

"My name is Mrs. Winter, and I've kept this shop ever since I became a
widow thirty years ago," said the old woman. Then pitying Madge's
blushes she continued: "It doesn't matter about not knowing my name,
miss. Don't give it another thought. Mrs. Winter is my name, as I
said, and it is certainly written above the door, but perhaps you
didn't notice it."

"No, I didn't look there! That was very stupid indeed of me!"
exclaimed Madge, who had been rather afraid that the old woman might be
vexed at her name not being better known. "But I shall remember that
you are Mrs. Winter always now," she added. "And now please let me
show you where the brown bag dropped."

"Ah, down there was it?" said Mrs. Winter, coming to the door. "You
will have a troublesome job to get in there, I am afraid. That cellar
belongs to the large house next door that's empty. The whole place is
shut up, and the man who keeps the key lives at the other side of the
town."

"What shall I do? What shall I do?" repeated poor Madge, her spirits
quite giving way at this discouraging news. Up to that time she had
fancied that if she could once explain the state of the case to Mrs.
Winter all would be well. And now it turned out that after all Mrs.
Winter had no more power to get back the bag than Madge herself. Of
course at twelve years old one can't cry before strangers, but if Madge
had only been the same age as the twins, it is very certain that she
would have relieved herself by bursting into tears. Even as it was she
looked so