her to
have nor to hold. What with her 'make believing' and her 'acting' she
upsets the girls generally. She ought to be set to good steady work; the
first chance I get I'll put her to it. I only wish some one would adopt
her--"

"I heard Father Honore--"

"Look at her now!" exclaimed Sister Agatha interrupting her.

Sister Angelica joined her at the window. They could not only see but
hear all that was going on below. With the garbage house as a
stage-setting and background to the performance, Flibbertigibbet was
courtesying low to her audience; the skirt of her scant gingham dress
was held in her two hands up and out to its full extent. The orphans
crouched on the pavement in a triple semi-circle in front of her.

"All this rigmarole comes of the theatre," said Sister Agatha grimly.

"Well, where's the harm? She is only living it all over again and giving
the others a little pleasure at the same time. Dear knows, they have
little enough, poor things."

Sister Agatha made no reply; she was listening intently to 208's orders.
The little girl had risen from her low courtesy and was haranguing the
assembled hundreds:

"Now watch out, all of yer, an' when I do the minute yer can clap yer
hands if yer like it; an' if yer want some more, yer must clap enough to
split yer gloves if yer had any on, an' then I'll give yer the coon
dance; an' then if yer like _that_, yer can play yer gloves are busted
with clappin' an' stomp yer feet--"

"But we can't," Freckles entered her prosaic protest, "'cause we're
squattin'."

"Well, get up then, yer'll have to; an' then if you stomp awful, an'
holler 'On-ko--on-ko!'--that's what they say at the thayertre--I'll give
yer somethin' else--"

"Wot?" demanded 206 suspiciously.

"Don't yer wish I'd tell!" said 208, and began the minuet.

It was marvellous how she imitated every graceful movement, every turn
and twist and bow, every courtesy to the imaginary partner--Freckles had
failed her entirely in this role--whose imaginary hand she held clasped
high above her head; her clumsy shoes slid over the flagging as if it
had been a waxed floor under dainty slippers. There was an outburst of
applause; such an outburst that had the audience really worn gloves,
every seam, even if French and handsewed, must have cracked under the
healthy pressure.

208 beamed and, throwing back her head, suddenly flung herself into the
coon dance which, in its way, was as wild and erratic as the minu