NG HERE ALONE?'" 44

"A STURDY LEG EMERGING FROM HIS FRONT WINDOW" 53

"AROUND HIS TANNED AND WRINKLED NECK
WENT HER WHITE ARMS" 64

"AFTER THEM FOLLOWED THE NURSES, CARRYING
THE BABIES" 73

JERRY'S REWARD

* * * * *

CHAPTER I.

THE INTERRUPTED GAME

Jefferson Square was a short street in Gaminsville, occupying just one
block. It took only two things on one side of it to fill up the space
from corner to corner. One was the Convent of the Good Shepherd, built
on a large lot surrounded by a high brick wall; the other, a common
where all the people around dumped cinders, rags, tin cans--in fact,
anything on earth they wished to throw away. On the other side were
dwelling-houses, and these were filled with children--lots of them.
There surely were never so many children on one square before!

There were the Earlys, the Rickersons, the Bakers, the Adamses, the
Mortons, and the Longs--twenty-one in all.

There were really twenty-eight; but the parents of seven children,
though they were not what you might call poor, were not well-born like
the others, so nobody counted them any more than they included them in
the games that the twenty-one played. This was sad for the seven little
outcasts, but the others never thought about that.

The twenty-one had splendid times together. It was play, play, play for
ever--dolls, pin fairs, circuses, and games. Every afternoon they
gathered in the Mortons' front gate, because it was wider and had three
stone steps leading down from it, where all the children could sit.

One evening, the latter part of August, the sun had dipped down behind
the world, leaving red splashes over a green sky. On seeing it the
children played fast and furiously, for they knew only too well that
when the sky looked like that they might at any moment be called
indoors, made to eat their suppers and go to bed.

[Illustration]

The oldest child of the lot was Henry Clay Morton. He was one of those
boys who try to have their way in everything, and generally succeed; so,
on this particular evening when he got tired playing "Grammammy Gray"
and proposed "Lost My Handkerchief," the others consented without any
fuss. The next thing to decide was who should be "ole man." They stood
in a long row, and Henry Clay, pointing, began at the top and gave each
child a word like this:

"Eeny,