lf and crowing
softly till--till from among the bunch of millinery one of them stepped
up to me. She had a big smooth face with plenty of chins. Her hair
was white and her nose was curved and she rustled in silk and--

It was Mrs. Dowager Diamonds, alias Henrietta, alias Mrs. Edward Ramsay!

"Clever! My, how clever!" she exclaimed, as though the sob in my voice
that I couldn't control had been a bit of acting.

She was feeling for her glasses. When she got them and hooked them on
her nose and got a good look at me--why, she just dropped them with a
smash upon the desk.

I looked for a minute from her to the Bishop.

"I remember you very well, Mrs. Ramsay. I hope you haven't forgotten
me. I've often wanted to thank you for your kindness," I said slowly,
while she as slowly recovered. "I think you'll be glad to know that I
am thoroughly well-cured. Shall I tell Mrs. Ramsay how, Bishop?"

I put it square up to him. And he met it like the little man he
is--perhaps, too, my bit of charity to the Cruelty children had pleased
him.

"I don't think it will be necessary, Miss Olden," he said gently. "I
can do that for you at some future time."

And I could have hugged him; but I didn't dare.

We had tea there in the Board rooms. Oh, Mag, remember how we used to
peep into those awful, imposing Board rooms! Remember how strange and
resentful you felt--like a poor little red-haired nigger up at the
block--when you were brought in there to be shown to the woman who'd
called to adopt you!

It was all so strange that I had to keep talking to keep from dreaming.
I was talking away to the matron and the Bishop about the play-room I'm
going to fit up out of that bare little place upstairs. Perhaps the
same child doesn't stay there very long, but there'll always be
children to fill it--more's the cruel pity!

Then the Bishop and I climbed up there to see it and plan about it.
But I couldn't really see it, Mag, nor the poor, white-faced, wise-eyed
little waifs that have succeeded us, for the tears in my eyes and the
ache at my heart and the queer trick the place has of being peopled
with you and me, and the boy with the gouged eye, and the cripple, and
the rest.

He put his gentle thin old arm about my shoulders for a moment when he
saw what was the matter with me. Oh, he understands, my Bishop! And
then we turned to go downstairs.

"Oh--I want--I want to do something for them," I cried. "I want to do
someth