nows--approves, Lucinda."

* * * * *

When the We Are Sevens heard of what Blue Bonnet had done, they insisted
upon adding their mite to the occasion; so Doctor Clark suggested that
it be turned into a We Are Sevens' party--the girls helping to give the
occupants of the Farm a real Christmas. The rest of the day, therefore,
was spent in the making of cakes and cookies, fudge and pinoche--enough,
Doctor Clark said when he saw it, to keep him employed at the farm for
weeks to come.

The Victrola came in on schedule time. Blue Bonnet and the doctor were
at the train to meet it. It would have been hard to say which was the
happier. The doctor's kindly face beamed as the box was loaded on to an
express wagon and Blue Bonnet's joy found vent in laughter.

It was a merry procession that wended its way toward the Poor Farm a
little later. Doctor Clark and Kitty leading the way in the phaeton with
heavily laden baskets, old Denham and the rest of the We Are Sevens
following in the Clyde carriage.

It must be confessed that the Christmas tree celebration was a bit
disappointing to Blue Bonnet. The old ladies--and the men, who were
permitted to attend also--seemed awed into silence. Perhaps the
sparkling tree, bright with candles and tarlatan bags of sweets, brought
memories cruel in their poignancy; and the old-fashioned songs had
rather a depressing effect than otherwise.

Doctor Clark saw the shade of disappointment cross Blue Bonnet's face,
and hastened to reassure her.

"It will be a great source of happiness to them, later, when the keen
edge of memory has been dulled by frequent contact with the wonderful
invention," he said. "Come out sometime and see for yourself."

Blue Bonnet was rather silent as she rode home that afternoon, in spite
of the We Are Sevens' chatter.

"The world seems an awfully unequal sort of place, doesn't it?" she said
to Sarah Blake. "Some people don't have enough money to make them
comfortable, and others have so much they don't know how to spend it.
What do you suppose is the reason?"

The question was beyond even thoughtful Sarah's ken.

"I don't know," she said, with all the hopelessness of a poor minister's
daughter; "but I have heard Father say that if everybody could be
started out equal--begin all over again--the same ones would be on top
in no time, treading on those less fortunate. It seems to be the law of
things, Blue Bonnet."

"But it's not f