tender woman with glasses on--whose hair didn't curl.
Those Things broke Margaret's heart.

"Now you know why She makes you make the bed over again when it's
wrinkly," gibed one Thing.

"And why she makes you mend the holes in your stockings," another
Thing.

"She doesn't make me do the biggest ones!" flashed Margaret, hotly,
but she could not stem the tide of Things. It swirled in.

"Perhaps now you see why She makes you hem towels and wipe dishes--"

"And won't let you eat two pieces of pie--"

"Or one piece o' fruit-cake--"

"Maybe you remember now the times she's said, 'This is no little
daughter of mine'?"

Margaret turned sharply. "That was only because I was naughty," she
pleaded, strickenly, but she knew in her soul it wasn't "only
because." She knew it was _because_. The terror within her was
growing more terrible every moment.

Then came shame. Like the evilest of the evil Things it had been
lurking in the background waiting its turn,--it was its turn now.
Margaret stood quite still, _ashamed_. She could not name the
strange feeling, for she had never been ashamed before, but she sat
there a piteous little figure in the grip of it. It was awful to be
only nine and feel like that! To shrink from going home past Mrs.
Streeter's and the minister's and the Enemy's!--oh, most of all past
the Enemy's!--for fear they'd look out of the window and say, "There
goes an adopted!" Perhaps they'd point their fingers.--Margaret
closed her eyes dizzily and saw Mrs. Streeter's plump one and the
minister's lean one and the Enemy's short brown one, all pointing.
She could feel something burning her on her forehead,--it was
"Adopted," branded there.

The Enemy was worst. Margaret crept under the fence just before she
got to the Enemy's house and went a weary, roundabout way home. She
could not bear to have this dearest Enemy see her in her disgrace.

Moth--She That had Been--would be wondering why Margaret was late. If
she looked sober out of her eyes and said, "This can't be my little
girl, can it?" then Margaret would _know for certain_. That would be
the final proof.

The chimney was in sight now,--now the roof,--now the kitchen door,
and She That Had Been was in it! She was shading her eyes and looking
for the little girl that wasn't hers. A sob rose in the little girl's
throat, but she tramped steadily on. It did not occur to her to
snatch off her hat and wave it, as little girls that belonged did.
She had d