eaves of curling hair. "Ye-e-es, Missis," he
drawled calmly.

Mrs. Milo was a judge of moods. She knew she had gone far enough. She
assumed a tone of deepest regret. "Ungrateful children!" she said,
distributing her censure. "Think of the little orphans who don't get the
care you get! Think----" And arraigning the sagging Clarence, "Don't
lean against Miss Milo."

Ikey grinned. Experience had taught him that when Mrs. Milo permitted
herself to halt a scolding, she would not resume it. Furthermore, a
loud, burring bell was ringing from somewhere beyond the Church, and that
summons meant the choirmaster, a personage who was really formidable.
Before Sue, he raised that candle-like finger.

"Practice," announced Mrs. Milo, pointing to the passage.

Three boys drew churchward on sluggish feet. But Sue held Ikey back.
"His finger hurts," she comforted. "Come! We'll get some liniment."

"Susan!"--gently reproving again. "There's liniment in the Dispensary."

Up, as before a teacher, came Ikey's well hand. "Please, Missis, de
Orphan medicine, she is not a speck of good."

Sue added her plea. "No, mother, she is not a speck."

Mrs. Milo shook her head sadly. "You're not going to help these children
by coddling them," she reminded. And to Ikey, "Let Nature repair the
bruise." She waved all four to go.

"Out of here, you little rascals!" Sue covered her chagrin by a laugh.
"Oh, you go that way,"--this to Ikey, who was treading too close upon the
heels of the still mourning Clarence. She guided the wounded chorister
toward the Close.

Ikey took his banishment with a sulky look at Mrs. Milo. "Nature," she
had recommended to him. He did not know any such person, and resented
being turned over to a stranger.

Mrs. Milo saw the look. "Wait!" And as he halted, "Is that your
handkerchief, Sue?"

"Why--why--er--I think so."

"Kindly take it."

Gently as this was said, it was for Ikey the last straw. As Sue unwound
the square of linen, he emitted a heart-rending "Ow!" and fell to weeping
stormily. "Oh, boo-hoo! Oh! Oh! Oh, dis is wat I gets for singin' in
a Christian choir!" With which stinging rebuke, he fled the drawing-room.

"Now, Susan." Mrs. Milo folded her hands and regarded her daughter
sorrowfully.

"Yes, mother?"

"Haven't I asked you not to allow those boys to call you Momsey?"

"Yes, mother, but----"

The white-clad figure in the bay-window stirred, rose, and came forward,