the better. You'll laugh at my experience when you have heard it;
but first let us have the whole of yours."

"You know, of course, where Mr. Van Ostend lives?" Champney nodded. "Did
you happen to notice the orphan asylum just opposite on ----nd Street?"

"No; I don't recall any building of that sort."

He smiled. "Probably not; that is not in your line and we men are apt to
see only what is in the line of our working vision. It seems that Mr.
Van Ostend has a little girl--"

"I know, that's the Alice I told you of, mother; did you see her when
she was here last month?"

"No; I only met Mr. Van Ostend on business. You were saying--?" She
addressed Father Honore.

"His little daughter told him so much about two orphan children, with
whom she had managed to have a kind of across-street-and-window
acquaintance, that he proposed to her to have the children over for
Christmas luncheon. The moment he saw Aileen, he recognized in her the
child on the vaudeville stage to whom he had given the flowers--You
remember that incident?"

"Don't I though!"

"--Because she had sung his wife's favorite hymn. He was thoroughly
interested in the child after seeing her, so to say, at close range, and
took the first opportunity to speak with the Sister Superior in regard
to finding for her a suitable and permanent home. The Sister Superior
referred him to me. As you know, he came to Flamsted recently with this
same little daughter; and the child talked so much and told so many
amusing things about Aileen to Mrs. Champney, that Mr. Van Ostend saw at
once this was an opportunity to further his plans, although he confided
to me his surprise that his cousin, Mrs. Champney, should be willing to
have so immature a child, in her house. Directly on getting home, he
telephoned to me that he had found a home for her with a relation of his
in Flamsted. You may judge of my surprise and pleasure, for I had
received the appointment to this place and the work among the quarrymen
only a month before. This is how the little girl happened to come up
with me. I hear she is making friends."

"She can't help making them, and a good deal more besides; for Romanzo
Caukins, our neighbor's son, and Octavius Buzzby, my aunt's _charge
d'affaires_, are at the present time her abject slaves," said Champney,
rising from the table at a signal from his mother. "Let's go out on the
porch, and I'll tell you of the fun I've had with her--poor Roman!" He
shook his h