with the Black Eyes would--though perhaps
she might, aunts not being quite as good as mothers."

"Do you know," said Maggie Brunt, coming up to Charlotte at this
moment, "that Lizzie Parker is going to be adopted? A lady is going to
adopt her."

"Oh!" cried Charlotte breathlessly. An adoption was always a wonderful
event in the asylum, as well as a somewhat rare one. "Oh, how
splendid!"

"Yes, isn't it?" said Maggie enviously. "She picked out Lizzie because
she was pretty and had curls. I don't think it is fair."

Charlotte sighed. "Nobody will ever want to adopt me, because I've
mousy hair and freckles," she said. "But somebody may want you some
day, Maggie. You have such lovely black hair."

"But it isn't curly," said Maggie forlornly. "And the matron won't let
me put it up in curl papers at night. I just wish I was Lizzie."

Charlotte shook her head. "I don't. I'd love to be adopted, but I
wouldn't really like to be anybody but myself, even if I am homely.
It's better to be yourself with mousy hair and freckles than somebody
else who is ever so beautiful. But I do envy Lizzie, though the
matron says it is wicked to envy anyone."

Envy of the fortunate Lizzie did not long possess Charlotte's mind,
however, for that very day a wonderful thing happened at noon hour by
the northwest gap. Charlotte had always been very careful not to let
the Pretty Lady see her, but today, after the Pretty Lady had gone
past, Charlotte leaned out of the gap to watch her as far as she
could. And just at that very moment the Pretty Lady looked back; and
there, peering at her from the asylum fence, was a little scrap of a
girl, with mouse-coloured hair and big freckles, and the sweetest,
brightest, most winsome little face the Pretty Lady had ever seen. The
Pretty Lady smiled right down at Charlotte and for just a moment her
eyes looked as Charlotte had always known they ought to look.
Charlotte was feeling rather frightened down in her heart but she
smiled bravely back.

"Are you thinking of running away?" said the Pretty Lady, and, oh,
what a sweet voice she had--sweet and tender, just like a mother's
voice ought to be!

"No," said Charlotte, shaking her head gravely. "I should like to run
away but it would be of no use, because there is no place to run to."

"Why would you like to run away?" asked the Pretty Lady, still
smiling. "Don't you like living here?"

Charlotte opened her big eyes very widely. "Why, it's an orphan