she said. "Where was ye going so
fast?"

"I am going home," replied Edna, "only I don't know how to get there."

"Yer lucky."

Edna stared. "I think I'm very unlucky. What makes you say that?"

"Yer lucky ter have any home ter go ter. I ain't. Yer live somewhere,
if ye don't know where it is, an' I don't live nowhere, if I know
where that is."

Edna smiled at this. "Why," she said, "where are your father and
mother?"

"I ain't got none. Mis' Ryan she bound me out to Mis' Hawkins, an' I
ain't goin' to stay there, I ain't. She starves me an' beats me;" and
the child's voice shrilled out again, "I ain't goin' ter stay, I
ain't."

"And haven't you any grandparents, or aunts or uncles?"

The child shook her head.

"Nor great-aunts? I think maybe you have a great-aunt like my Aunt
Elizabeth," continued Edna.

But another shake of the head was the reply.

"And you haven't any friends. O, do say you haven't any friends,"
urged Edna, a pleased look coming into her face. "If you just say you
haven't any friends I'll know just what to do."

"There's Moggins," said the child.

"Who is Moggins?" Edna asked, her face falling.

"My cat. Mis' Hawkins won't let me let him indoors; but he knows me
an' comes when I call him."

"O, well," replied Edna, "of course a cat is a friend, but I don't
believe he'll count. Anyhow, we'll take him, too."

"Where?" asked the girl, in astonishment.

"Why, to the Home of the Friendless, of course; aren't you friendless,
and you haven't any home. It's just the place made for you;" and Edna
smiled, well pleased. "Can you get Moggins? Is he far away?"

"Down there," and the child jerked her head in the direction of a
narrow court near by.

"I'll wait here for you," said Edna, decidedly. "Tell me your name and
I'll tell you mine. I'm Edna Conway."

"I'm Maggie Horn. You wait for me;" and Maggie darted away, leaving
Edna on the corner.

All thoughts of the ribbon, car fare, and all else faded away
before this great new interest. The saving from homelessness and
friendlessness this little street child whom Edna had met in such
an unexpected way seemed to her more important than anything else
in the world, and she eagerly waited Maggie's return.

She did not have to wait long, for very soon Maggie came running back
with a forlorn, miserable, half-starved kitten cuddled up in her arms.

"Here he is!" she cried, exultantly. "I ketched him; he was a-settin'
in the sun. Let's hurry,