't worth it. While I'm in the humor, take it from me there
ain't anybody worth anything anyhow!"

"Oh, Mr. Flint! What a shame and a sin!" called another voice. "Oh,
Mr. Flint, I'm ashamed of you!" There in the freedom of the Saturday
morning sunlight stood Mary Virginia, her red Irish setter Kerry
beside her.

"I came over," said she, "to see how the baby-moths are getting on
this morning, and to know if the last hairy gentleman I brought spins
into a cocoon or buries himself in the ground. And then I heard Mr.
Flint--and what he said is unkind, and untrue, and not a bit like him.
Why, everybody's worth everything you can do for them--only some are
worth more."

The wild wrath died out of his face. As usual, he softened at sight of
her.

"Oh, well, miss, I wasn't thinking of the like of you--and him," he
jerked his head at me, half apologetically, "nor young Mayne, nor the
little Madame. You're different."

"Why, no, we aren't, really," said Mary Virginia, puckering her brows
adorably. "We only _seem_ to be different--but we are just exactly
like everybody else, only _we_ know it, and some people never can seem
to find it out--and there's the difference! You see?" That was the
befuddled manner in which Mary Virginia very often explained things.
If God was good to you, you got a little glimmer of what she meant and
was trying to tell you. Mary Virginia often talked as the alchemists
used to write--cryptically, abstrusely, as if to hide the golden truth
from all but the initiate.

"Come and shake hands with Mr. Flint, Kerry," said she to the setter.
"I want you to help make him understand things it's high time he
should know. Nobody can do that better than a good dog can."

Kerry looked a trifle doubtful, but having been told to do a certain
thing, he obeyed, as a good dog does. Gravely he sat up and held out
an obedient paw, which the man took mechanically. But meeting the
clear hazel eyes, he dropped his hand upon the shining head with the
gesture of one who desires to become friends. Accepting this, Kerry
reached up a nose and nuzzled. Then he wagged his plumy tail.

"There!" said Mary Virginia, delightedly. "Now, don't you see how
horrid it was to talk the way you talked? Why, Kerry _likes_ you, and
Kerry is a sensible dog."

"Yes, miss," and he looked at Mary Virginia very much as the dog did,
trustingly, but a little bewildered.

"Aren't you sorry you said that?"

"Y-e-s, seeing you seem to think it