re some little children taken away from you before
we came, you know? And now we've got this great big house, and
plenty of things, more than it takes for us."

"Well?"

"Don't you think it's expected that we should do something with the
corners? There's room for some real good little times for somebody.
I think we ought to begin a beehive."

Mrs. Ripwinkley kissed Hazel very tenderly, and said, only,--

"We can wait, and see."

Those are just the words that mothers so often put children off
with! But Mrs. Ripwinkley, being one of the real folks, meant it;
the very heart of it.

In that little talk, they took the consecration in; they would wait
and see; when people do that, with an expectation, the beehive
begins.

* * * * *

Up Hanley Street, the six fell into pairs.

Mrs. Scherman and Desire, Dorris and Mr. Scherman, Rosamond and
Kenneth Kincaid.

It only took from Bridgeley Street up to Dane, to tell Kenneth
Kincaid so much about Westover, in answer to his questions, that he
too thought he had found a new little piece of his world. What
Rosamond thought, I do not know; but a girl never gives a young man
so much as she gave Kenneth in that little walk without having some
of the blessed consciousness that comes with giving. The sun knows
it shines, I dare say; or else there is a great waste of hydrogen
and other things.

There was not much left for poor little Desire after they parted
from the Schermans and turned the corner of Dane Street. Only a
little bit of a way, in which new talk could hardly begin, and just
time for a pause that showed how the talk that had come to an end
was missed or how, perhaps, it stayed in the mind, repeating itself,
and keeping it full.

Nobody said anything till they had crossed B---- Street; and then
Dorris said, "How beautiful,--_real_ beautiful, Rosamond Holabird
is!" And Kenneth answered, "Did you hear what she said to Mrs.
Ripwinkley?"

They were full of Rosamond! Desire did not speak a word.

Dorris had heard and said it over. It seemed to please Kenneth to
hear it again. "A piece of her world!"

"How quickly a true person springs to what belongs to--their life!"
said Kenneth, using that wrong little pronoun that we shall never be
able to do without.

"People don't always get what belongs, though," blurted Desire at
last, just as they came to the long doorsteps. "Some people's lives
are like complementary colors, I think; they