ashed by her fierce reception, "I took him
for a girl on account of his clo'es. He's wearing dresses."

"He ain't old enough for pants. He's only two."

"Oh, mercy! He's lots bigger than Glen. But then Glen won't be two until
next January."

"Is Glen your brother?" asked the other girl, somewhat mollified by the
friendliness of the stranger's voice.

"No, he's the minister's little boy which we used to have in Parker
where we lived 'fore we came here. What's your baby's name?"

"Rivers."

"His first name, I mean."

"That's his first name. Rivers Dillon, and I'm Fern."

"Oh! They're as bad as ours, ain't they? I'm always running up against
horrid names. Gail says it's 'cause I am always looking for them--"

"Our names ain't horrid!" Fern Dillon bounced off the grass like an
angry hornet, then collapsed beside the baby brother, who evidently was
not given much to talking, for he had not said a word, but simply stared
in round-eyed surprise at the pretty stranger child. "Oh, dear,
everybody is so mean!"

"Fern, what have I done? I didn't mean to be hateful," cried Peace
remorsefully. "Please, I'm sorry I've made you mad. Don't mind anything
I said. I've always hated my own name so bad that I am always glad when
I can find a worse one. That is all I meant."

Strange to say, Fern's wrath was at once appeased, in spite of the
explanation, and she smiled faintly as she brushed away the fresh tears.
"I thought you was going to be just like Mrs. Burnett," she explained.
"She's always scolding mamma 'cause she won't put Rivers and me in a
Home--"

"In a _Home_?" cried Peace in horrified accents. "What for?"

"So's she can get more work to do. Lots of people won't give her their
washing 'cause she has to take both of us with her, and folks think
three is too many to feed, I guess."

"Is your papa dead?"

"He--he's gone. Mabel Cartwell says he's in jail," her voice dropped to
an awed whisper; "but when I asked mamma, she just cried and cried. Now
she's sick and they are going to take her to a hospital, and I don't
know what Rivers and me'll do. Mrs. Burnett says of course we can't go
with her, 'cause there ain't any sickness the matter with us,
and--and--oh, we can't stay with _her_! She shakes Rivers for everything
he touches. Oh dear, oh dear!"

"Have they--taken your mamma--away yet?"

"No, she's in there--"

"In that barn?"

"That's where we live since papa--went away."

"I'm going to ask her if you c