beseeching the gods.

It was near the holidays. My pupil teachers and helpers worked extra
hours and pinched from their scant savings that those they could reach
might not have a hungry Christmas. They put together the price of their
gifts to each other and bought rice. In gay little groups they went from
door to door and gathered up twenty feeble old women, brought them to my
house and feasted them to the utmost.

Hardly a day passed without some new and unusual demand, until learning
to stand up and sit down at the same time was almost a necessity.

Had my own life lacked absorbing interest, Jane Gray's activities would
have furnished an inexhaustible supply. As she grew stronger and could
come and go at her pleasure, her unexpectedness upset my systematic
household to the point of confusion. She supplied untold excitement to
Pine Tree and Maple Leaf, the two serving maids earning an education by
service, and drove old Ishi the gardener to tearful protest. "Miss
Jaygray dangerful girl. She boldly confisteal a dimension of flower
house and request strange demons to roost on premises."

This all came about because my fireside companion was a born collector.
Not of any reasonable thing like stamps or butterflies, but of stray
animals and wandering humans. Her affections embraced every created
thing that came out of the ark, including all the descendants of Mr. and
Mrs. Noah. A choice spot in my beloved garden, which was also Ishi's
heaven, housed a family of weather-beaten world-weary cats, three
chattering monkeys, that made love to Jane and hideous faces at
everybody else, a parrakeet and a blind pup. If the collection fell
short in quality, it abounded in variety. On one occasion she brought
home two ragged and hungry American sailors, and it required military
tactics to piece out the "left-over" lunch for them. Another time she
shared her room with a poor creature who had been a pretty woman, now
seeking shelter till her transportation could be secured.

Late one snowy night Jane came stumbling in weighted with an extra
bundle. Tenderly unwrapping the covering she disclosed a half-starved
baby. That day she had gone to a distant part of the city to assist in
organizing a soup kitchen, and a Bible class. On her way home she heard
a feeble cry coming from a ditch. She located a bundle of rags, and
found a bit of discarded humanity.

"Isn't it sweet?" murmured the little missionary as she laid the
weakling before