out and put back her hatpins. "It must be grand to be
a' actress!" she observed longingly.

"Well, it ain't so bad. For one thing, you can pick a name you like.
Now, I think mine is real swell. 'What'll we call y'?' says my first
manager. Y' see, my own name wouldn't do, specially as I'm a
dancer--Hopwell; ain't that fierce? Tottie Hopwell! I never could
live that down. So I says to him, 'Well, call me Mignon--Mignon St.
Clair.'"

Mrs. Colter gazed at her hostess wide-eyed. "Oh, it's grand!" she
breathed. "--Barbara, _come_!"

"I'm coming."

On flagging feet, the child came out. She was small--not over nine at
the most--with thin little legs, and a figure too slender for her
years. Her dress was a gingham, very much faded. One untied lace of
her patched shoes whipped from side to side as she walked.

But it was not the poorness of her dress that made her a pathetic
picture as she halted, looking at Mrs. Colter. It was her face--a
grave, little face, thin, and lacking childish color. Upon it were a
few stray, pale freckles.

Yet it was not a plain face, and about it fell her hair, brown and
abundant, in gleaming curls and waves. Her eyes were lovely--large,
and a dark, almost a purplish, blue. They were wise beyond the age of
their owner, and sad. They told of tears shed, of wordless appeal, but
also of patient endurance of little troubles. Her brows had an upward
turn at the center which gave her a quaint, questioning look. Her
mouth was tucked in at either corner, lending a wistful expression that
was habitual.

"Barbara, come, hurry," urged Mrs. Colter, holding out the child's hat.

But Barbara hung back. "Where's Aunt Clare?" she asked.

"I tell you, Aunt Clare ain't home yet."

Now, Barbara retreated. "Oh, I want to stay here, to see her. Please,
please."

"Look how you act!" complained Mrs. Colter, helplessly.

Tottie came to the rescue. "Say, I'll keep a' eye on the kid."

"Oh, will you?" cried Mrs. Colter, gratefully.

"Sure. Leave her."

"That's mighty nice of you.--And you be a good girl, Barbara."

"I will," promised the child, settling herself upon the settee with a
happy smile.

A bell rang. "Ah, there she is now!" exclaimed Mrs. Colter, and as
Barbara sprang up, she ran to her and hastily tidied the gingham dress.

But Tottie was giving a touch to her appearance at the hall mirror.
"Nope," she declared over a shoulder. "She's got a key."

Though she heard