le toward the girl, as to a sister-spirit who would be
certain to appreciate.

Dora lifted gingham-clad shoulders in a weary shrug. "'Can a maid forget
her ornaments?'" she quoted; "'or a bride her attire?'"

"Well, I like that!" cried Hattie.

Quickly Dora extended a hand with a gesture unmistakably cleric.
"Jeremiah," she explained; "--second chapter, and thirty-second verse."

But Hattie was not deceived. She rustled forward. "Yes!" she retorted.
"And Hattie Balcome, first chapter, and first verse, reads: 'Can a maid
forget her _manners_?'"

Dora was suddenly all meekness. "If she forgets her duties," she
answered, "she shall flee from Mrs. Milo--and the wrath to come!"
Whereupon, with a bounce and a giggle, neither of which was in keeping
with her spoken fears, she went out, banging the library door.

Hattie turned, and here was the choir at her back, engrossed in the
beauties of her apparel. She gave the little group a friendly nod and a
smile. "So you are the boys," she commented.

Bobbie was quick to explain. "We're some of the boys," he said.
"There's about fifty more of us, and pretty near fifty girls, too, over
in the Orphanage."

"But--aren't you all rather big to be left in a basket?"

"Oh, not all of us are left in the basket." Bobbie shook his rumpled mop
with great finality.

"No." It was a smaller boy. "Just the fellers that never had any
mothers or fathers."

"Like me," piped a chorister from the rear.

"And me," put in the tow-headed boy.

Hattie looked them over carefully. "Which," she inquired, "is the one
that is borrowed from his aunt?"

The group stirred. A murmur went from boy to boy. "Mm! Yes! That one!
Oh, him!"

"That's Ikey Einstein," explained Bobbie. "And he's in the Church right
now. You see, he's borrowed on account of his won-der-ful voice. Momsey
says Ikey's got a song-bird in his throat."

Once more the group stirred, murmuring its assent. It was the testimony
of a choir to its finest songster--a testimony strong with pride.

At that same moment, sounding from beyond the heavy door that gave to the
Church, came a long-drawn howl of mingled rage and woe. "Wa-ah!"--it was
the voice of a boy; "oh, wa-a-a-ah!"

Bobbie lifted a finger to point. "That," said he proudly, "is Ikey now."
He motioned the choir into the bay-window, and Hattie followed.

The wails increased in volume. The door at the end of the passage swung
open; and into sight, amid