noon. She was going
right out again; but first she stooped, and felt under her straw--the
doll was gone! Biddy sat down, quite faint for a moment; then she sprang
to her feet, darted up the cellar steps, and around the corner where old
Mrs. Brown sat behind her apple and candy stand. Biddy reached over and
put both hands in the knot of gray hair in the old woman's neck, pulling
as if she would carry her off, stand and all.

Biddy's face was pale, and her eyes were like white-hot coals, as she
gasped out:

"Give it me! Give it me! I'll never leave go till ye give it me!"

"Howld an, an' lave go av me!" cried the old woman. She grasped Biddy's
wrists, and drew them toward her to ease the strain on her hair; but
Biddy's little fingers were strong. She tugged hard, and kept on
gasping,

"I'll never, never leave go till ye give it me. Oh!"

Never had such an "Oh!" come from Biddy's lips before, and with the very
sound of it she had torn herself away from Mrs. Brown, and had seized
and almost knocked over little Charley, who had vainly been making signs
at her as he came up behind Mrs. Brown.

[Illustration: MENDING THE DOLL.]

Mrs. Brown rubbed her neck, smoothed down her apron, and jabbering
fiercely, came panting up to the children. Biddy had let go of Charley,
and was sitting right down on the cold pavement holding her doll, and
looking with wild delight and wonder at its wooden arm, new from the
elbow. Charley knew an old man who used to whittle out all sorts of
things with his jackknife, and who seemed as ready to give away as to
sell his work. Charley had taken Biddy's doll to this man, who had
willingly and quite skillfully mended it. He was on his way back to get
it hid under Biddy's straw for a surprise for her, when he found Biddy
struggling with Mrs. Brown. Charley's plan was perfect. The trouble was
that he couldn't plan for Biddy too, and she had spoiled everything
without knowing it.

"How ever _could_ ye git a new arm?" said Biddy. "It's a miracle."

"Be whisht wid yer mary-cles!" exclaimed old Mrs. Brown, snatching the
doll, holding it high out of reach, and spreading out her other hand to
keep Biddy off.

But Biddy did not spring at her this time. She stood up, and put her
hands together, and twisted them till the knuckles were white, and she
spoke as if there were cotton in her throat when she begged the old
woman to give her the doll. She promised never to be a bad girl any
more; to give ever