m her little books.

"A good luck dolly!" Beryl held the doll close. Her eyes grew round and
excited. "Then I can ride all day on a 'bus and go to the Zoo, can't I?
And can I have a new coat with fur? And go to Coney? And shoot the
shoots? And can Dale ride a horse? And can Dale and me go across the
river where it's like--that?" nodding to the poster.

Mrs. Lynch rocked furiously in her joy at Beryl's anticipations. The
floor creaked and the kettle sang louder than before.

"That you can. And it'll be a fine strong, brave girl you'll be, going
to school and learning more than even poor old Father Murphy knew, God
love him. And by and by--"

But a heavy toiling of steps up the stairs checked her words. That slow
tread was not her big Danny nor the young Dale! At a knock she flew to
the door.

"Oh, and if it isn't Mister Torrence." She caught the old man who stood
on the threshold and laughingly pulled him into the room. "It was afraid
I was that it was bad news! Danny Lynch isn't home yet but you shall
stay and eat dumplin's with us--the best outside of our Ireland--"

[Illustration: THE BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL HAD _NOT_ SPOKEN TO HER]

"No! No!" protested the old man, regretfully. "My old woman's waitin'!
_Bad_ news! It's _good_ news I bring. Dan's had a raise. He's foreman of
the gang now. And I stepped 'round to tell ye the good news and that
Dan'll be a-workin' tonight with an extry shift and'll not be comin'
home to dinner, worse luck for him!" sniffing appreciatively at the
pleasant odor from the stove.

"A raise? My Dan a foreman?" Moira Lynch caught her hands together.
"It's the good luck! And it's deservin' of it he is for no man on the
docks works harder than my big Dan." Her eyes shone like two stars.

"Well, ye'll want to be a-eatin' the dumplin's so I'll go along.
Good-night, Mrs. Lynch."

"God love you, Mister Torrence," whispered Moira, too overcome to manage
her voice.

Closing the door behind her unexpected visitor she turned and caught the
wondering Beryl into her arms.

"And I was a-thinking it would never come! It's ashamed I should be to
have doubted. My big Dan!"

"Is it the dolly that's brought us the good-luck, Mom?" interrupted
Beryl, round-eyed.

"A foreman!" cried the mother in the very tone she would have used if
she had said "a king." She-danced about until the floor creaked
threateningly. "Our good fortune is coming, my precious. And it's fine
and beautiful my girl shall be w