d to hand
among the crowding boys. "That's him, and he's been dead twenty years."

"Let me see!" A shining tow-head wriggled up from under the arms of
taller boys, and a freckled hand captured the picture. "Why, he looks
like Momsey!"

The tousled songster seized the photograph in righteous anger. "Sure!"
he cried, waving it in the face of the tow-headed boy; "you don't think
she takes after her mother, do y'?"

A chorus of protests, all aimed at the tow-head, which was turned
defensively from side to side.

"Y' know what _I_ think?" demanded the tousled one. He motioned the
others to gather round. "I don't believe the old lady is Momsey's mother
at a-a-all!"

"Oo-oo-oo!" The choir gasped and stared.

"No, I don't," persisted the boy. "I believe that years, and years, and
years ago, some nice, poor lady come cree-ee-eepin' through the little
white door, and left Momsey--in the basket!"

Nine small countenances beamed with delight. "You're right!" the choir
clamored. "You're right! You're dead right!" White sleeves were waved
joyously aloft.

Now the heavy door to the library began to swing against the backs of two
or three. The choir did not wait to see who was entering. Smiles
vanished. Eyes grew frightened. Like one, the boys wheeled and fled.
The door into the passage stood wide. They crowded through it, and
halted only when the last cotta was across the sill. Then, like a flock
of scared quail, they faced about, panting, and ready for further flight.

One look, and ten musical throats emitted as many unmusical shouts of
laughter. While the tousle-headed boy, swinging the photograph which he
had failed to restore to its place, again set foot upon the Brussels of
the drawing-room. "Oh! Oh!" he laughed. "Oh, golly, Dora, you scared
me!"

With all the dignity of her sixteen years, and with all the authority of
one who has graduated from the ranks of an Orphanage to the higher, if
rarer, air of a Rector's residence, Dora surveyed with shocked
countenance the saucy visages of the ten. On occasions she could assume
a manner most impressive--a manner borrowed in part from a butler who had
been installed, at one time, by a wealthy and high-living incumbent of
St. Giles, and in part from ministers who had reigned there by turns and
whose delivery and outward manifestations of inward sanctity she had
carefully studied during the period of her own labor in the house. Now
with finger-tips tog