et train and mantle, in a fairy spectacle where she
played the queen. It was very splendid, and, snugly settled among the
soft folds, I saw it all, and probably felt that I too had my part;
humble as it was, it was faithfully performed, and I never once deserted
my post for six weeks.

"Among the elves who went flitting about with silvery wings and spangled
robes was one dear child who was the good genius of the queen, and was
always fluttering near her, so I could not help seeing and loving the
dear creature. She danced and sung, came out of flowers, swung down from
trees, popped up from the lower regions, and finally, when all the
queen's troubles are over, flew away on a golden cloud, smiling through
a blaze of red light, and dropping roses as she vanished.

"When the play ended, I used to see her in an old dress, a thin shawl,
and shabby hat, go limping home with a tired-looking woman who dressed
the girls.

"I thought a good deal about 'Little Viola,' as they called her,--though
her real name was Sally, I believe,--and one dreadful night I played a
heroic part, and thrill now when I remember it."

"Go on, please, I long to know," said Miss Ellen, dropping the
needle-book into her lap, and leaning forward to listen better.

"One evening the theatre took fire," continued the old pin impressively.
"I don't know how, but all of a sudden there was a great uproar, smoke,
flames, water pouring, people running frantically about, and such a wild
panic I lost my small wits for a time. When I recovered them, I found
Cora was leaning from a high window, with something wrapped closely in
the velvet mantle that I pinned upon the left shoulder just under a
paste buckle that only sparkled while _I_ did all the work.

"A little golden head lay close by me, and a white face looked up from
the crimson folds, but the sweet eyes were shut, the lips were drawn
with pain, a horrible odor of burnt clothes came up to me, and the small
hand that clutched Cora's neck was all blistered with the cruel fire
which would have devoured the child if my brave mistress had not rescued
her at the risk of her own life. _She_ could have escaped at first, but
she heard Sally cry to her through the blinding smoke, and went to find
and rescue her. I dimly recalled that, and pressed closer to the white
shoulder, full of pride and affection for the kind soul whom I had often
thought too gay and giddy to care for anything but pleasure.

"Now she was ca