sed him, I say. I've got the same amount of patience
with these hyphenated Americans as I have with the Jews who try to
segregate themselves and dot the map with New Jerusalems. Where's the
sense in throwing yourself into the melting-pot, glad of the chance, and
then kicking because you come out something different?--Come on to bed,
dear; you are as pale as a ghost, and I'm so tired I can't see straight.
Our baby is all right. Don't you worry."

* * * * *

Snow falls on the just and the unjust. There was quite as much of it in
Hannah's back yard as in either Virginia's or Nellie's--perhaps even a
little more had drifted into the fence corners. Hannah's joy in
discovering that in this respect she had not been slighted crowded her
troubles into the background. Immediately after breakfast, bundled up
snugly, she stood in her yard and threw snowballs toward her neighbors'
homes, while she squealed with delight. In a very few minutes, three
little girls were playing where only one had played before.

The two newcomers, Virginia Lawrence and Nellie Halloran, presented an
interesting contrast. Virginia, slim, and tall for her age, with long,
flat, yellow braids, handled the snow daintily, even gingerly. Nellie,
fat and dimpled, her curls tousled into a flame colored halo, rolled
over and over in the snow, and then shook herself like a puppy. Until
the advent of Hannah, a subtle antagonism had existed between the two
children. Virginia's favorite game was playing "lady" with a train
floating gracefully behind her; Nellie's chief joy in life was seeing
how long she could stand on her head, her short skirts obeying the laws
of gravity all the while. Hannah, however, vibrated obligingly between
the two sports, and kept the peace inviolate.

Romping in the snow is hard play, and presently the little girls sat
panting on the top step of the Josephs' back porch. Immediately Nellie
produced a string of amethyst colored beads from her coat pocket, with
the announcement that she would say her prayers while resting.

"What kind of beads are those?" asked Hannah.

"Rosary beads, 'course," responded Nellie. "Hannah, you don't know
anything."

"I do, too."

"Huh! you didn't even know about the Mother o' God until I told you."

"I reckon I thought God was an orphan," Hannah pleaded in extenuation.
"But, what about God's papa?" she demanded with sudden inspiration.
"You're so smarty, tell me a