ed out of the attic she dropped
her red shawl and did not know it had fallen. No one saw it for a
minute or so. Becky was too much overpowered by the good luck which
had befallen her.

"Oh, miss! oh, miss!" she gasped; "I know it was you that asked her to
let me come. It--it makes me cry to think of it." And she went to
Sara's side and stood and looked at her worshipingly.

But in Sara's hungry eyes the old light had begun to glow and transform
her world for her. Here in the attic--with the cold night
outside--with the afternoon in the sloppy streets barely passed--with
the memory of the awful unfed look in the beggar child's eyes not yet
faded--this simple, cheerful thing had happened like a thing of magic.

She caught her breath.

"Somehow, something always happens," she cried, "just before things get
to the very worst. It is as if the Magic did it. If I could only just
remember that always. The worst thing never QUITE comes."

She gave Becky a little cheerful shake.

"No, no! You mustn't cry!" she said. "We must make haste and set the
table."

"Set the table, miss?" said Becky, gazing round the room. "What'll we
set it with?"

Sara looked round the attic, too.

"There doesn't seem to be much," she answered, half laughing.

That moment she saw something and pounced upon it. It was Ermengarde's
red shawl which lay upon the floor.

"Here's the shawl," she cried. "I know she won't mind it. It will make
such a nice red tablecloth."

They pulled the old table forward, and threw the shawl over it. Red is
a wonderfully kind and comfortable color. It began to make the room
look furnished directly.

"How nice a red rug would look on the floor!" exclaimed Sara. "We must
pretend there is one!"

Her eye swept the bare boards with a swift glance of admiration. The
rug was laid down already.

"How soft and thick it is!" she said, with the little laugh which Becky
knew the meaning of; and she raised and set her foot down again
delicately, as if she felt something under it.

"Yes, miss," answered Becky, watching her with serious rapture. She
was always quite serious.

"What next, now?" said Sara, and she stood still and put her hands over
her eyes. "Something will come if I think and wait a little"--in a
soft, expectant voice. "The Magic will tell me."

One of her favorite fancies was that on "the outside," as she called
it, thoughts were waiting for people to call them. Becky had seen her