hat's what is the matter with Lottie,"
Peace chattered relentlessly on. "She is awfully ugly today; but then
I'd be, too, if I had to live on such grub. It's worse than we had at
the little brown house in Parker--"

"If you will slip off that apron and come with me," interrupted the
matron desperately, not daring to look at the faces of her dismayed
"Lady Board," "we will find Lottie and get your own clothes so you can
go home. The next time you come, be sure to get a permit first. Then
this trouble won't happen again."

"Oh, will you let me come some more?"

"Aren't you Dr. Campbell's granddaughter? Tony said you were."

"Yes, he's my adopted grandpa now."

"Mrs. Campbell is interested in the Home--"

"Is she a splinter?"

"A _what_?"

Tony giggled and dodged behind the matron to hide his tell-tale face,
and Peace, remembering Ethel's explanation, said hastily, "I mean a
piece of the Lady's Board?"

"No, she is not one of the Board of Directors, if that is what you mean;
but she often sends the children little treats--candy and nuts at
Christmas time, or flowers from the greenhouse after the summer blossoms
are gone."

"Oh, I see. She told me one time that she would take us to visit the
Children's Home, but I didn't know it was this. We've got scarlet fever
at our house--."

"Child alive! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I ain't got it, and anyway, I haven't been home since our spring
vacation in March. I am staying with Saint John, the new preacher at
Hill Street Church, and I 'xpect if I don't get home pretty soon, he'll
think I am lost, sure. I went down to the drug store to telephone
grandma, and when Gussie told me they had gone to the Pine Woods, I was
so mad for a time that I just boiled over. So I walked on and on till I
came to this place. I never have been so far before, and I didn't know
there was such a Home around here. I know they'll let me come often.
There aren't many children up our way to play with and sometimes it gets
lonesome. There's Lottie now! Cook must have found out that I knew what
I was talking about. Here's your apron, Lottie; and say, I'm awful sorry
I shook you. Will you pretend I didn't do it, and be friends with me
again?"

"I--I bit you," stammered the child, as much astonished at this greeting
as were the matron and the "Lady Board," who still lingered in the hall,
fascinated with this frank creature, who so fearlessly voiced her own
opinions of their work.

"So you