reat sigh. "I'm afraid I've
committed myself to an entry for the parade," she told the others
ruefully.

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to compete!" exclaimed Mrs. Brown.

"Well, we're rather afraid we are!" Mrs. Burgoyne's voice, if fearful,
was hopeful too, for Ellen's face was a study. "Why, is it such a
terrible effort?"

"Oh, yes, it's an appalling amount of struggle and fuss, there's all
sorts of red tape, and the flowers are so messy," answered the doctor's
wife warningly, "and this year will be worse than ever. The Women's
Club of Apple Creek is going to enter a carriage, and you know our club
is to have the White's motor; it will be perfectly exquisite! It's to
be all pink carnations, and Mr. White's nephew, a Berkeley boy, and
some of his friends, all in white flannels, are going to run it. Doctor
says there'll be a hundred entries this year."

"Well, I'm afraid I'm in for it," said Mrs. Burgoyne, with a sigh. "I
haven't the least idea in the world what I'm going to do. It isn't as
if we even had a surrey. But I really was involved before I had time to
think. You know I've been trying, with some of my spare time," her eyes
twinkled, "to get hold of these little factory and cannery girls over
in Old Paloma."

"You told me," said Mrs. Brown, "but I don't see how that--"

"Well, you see, their ringleader has been particularly ungracious to
me. A fine, superb, big creature she is, named Alice Carter. This Alice
came up to the children and me in the street the other day, and told
me, in the gruffest manner, that she was interested in a little
crippled girl over there, and had promised to take her to see the
Flower Festival. But it seems the child's mother was afraid to trust
her to Alice in the crowd and heat. Quite simply she asked me if I
could manage it. I was tremendously touched, and we went to see the
child. She's a poor, brave little scrap--twelve years old, did she say,
Baby?"

"Going on thirteen," said Ellen rapidly; "and her father is dead, and
her mother works, and she takes care of such a fat baby, and she is
very gen-tul with him, isn't she, Mother? And she cried when Mother
gave her books, and she can't eat her lunch because her back aches, but
she gave the baby his lunch, and Mother asked her if she would let a
doctor fix her back, and she said, 'Oh, no!'--didn't she, Mother? She
just twisted and twisted her hands, and said, 'I can't.' And Mother
said, 'Mary, if you will be a brave girl abo