"Well, you see, if I wore both, Towsley couldn't have any. If he wore
both and I none, there'd be nobody to teach him how. That's why."

"What--what did you say his name was?"

Miss Lucy was very thankful that the dirty little urchin was on the
further side of Molly, who was quite clean, and that her own dainty
garments could not be soiled by contact with his.

"He doesn't know, exactly. The folks around call him 'Towsley,' 'cause
his hair's never combed, except once in a while when I take him in
hand. It's such a pretty yellow color, too, isn't it? It seems a pity
it couldn't always be tidy, doesn't it?"

Molly had a disconcerting habit of appealing to anybody near for
confirmation of any opinion she expressed, and this was annoying to
Miss Lucy. She considered it distinctly ill-bred, and whatever was
ill-bred was disagreeable to her. She was very glad that she had
reached the big marble steps which led up to her own front door, and
she disengaged herself from Molly's supporting arm with a brisk little
motion which emphasized her words:

"This thing has gone far enough!"

But the girl from Side Street didn't notice this. She rarely did
notice unpleasant small things. She hadn't time; being always so busy
looking after the larger pleasant ones, of which her world seemed
full.

"Yes, I suppose it has. I'm so glad, more glad than I can say, that I
didn't hurt you. It would have made me so unhappy, and I just hate to
be unhappy."

"Oh! you do, do you?"

"Yes'm. Well, if you think you're all right now, Towsley and I'll just
take another try at it and see if we can't keep our eyes right front
next time. Good-by. I hope you'll not feel shook up, afterward, as
mother did the day she fell down-stairs. Didn't appear to hurt her a
mite, then, but she was all trembling and queer-headed for a week
afterward. Come on, Tows! I didn't have but fifteen minutes for play,
to begin with, and a lot of that's been wasted already. Good-by."

Before the servant had opened the door to admit her mistress the two
children and the one pair of skates had whisked away to the foot of
the block; this time, however, keeping well to the asphalt in the
centre of the Avenue, where they would not be apt to collide with
anything smaller than a horse and wagon, which would be better able to
resist their onslaught than Miss Lucy had been.

"Why, mistress! Whatever has happened? Your cloak is all dusty and
your bonnet----"

Miss Armacost in