erintendent's eyes
never left her face and--at certain parts of the story--the
Superintendent's cheeks grew girlishly pink. She told of the saving of
Ella--she told of Bennie, explaining that he was the same child whom the
Young Doctor had met in the hall. She told of Mrs. Volsky's effort to
better herself, and of Jim's snake-like smoothness. And then she told of
Lily--Lily with her almost unearthly beauty and her piteous physical
condition. As she told of Lily the Superintendent's kind eyes filled with
tears, and her lips quivered.

"Oh," she breathed, "if only something could be done for her--if only
something could be done! Billy Blanchard must see her at once--he's done
marvellous things with the crippled children of the neighbourhood!"

With a feeling of sudden confidence Rose-Marie smiled. She realized that
she had caught the Superintendent's interest--and her sympathy. It would
be easier, now, to give the family their chance! Her voice was more calm
as she went on with the narrative. It was only when she told of the death
of Pa that her lips trembled.

"You'll think that I'm hard and callous," she said, "taking his death so
easily. But I can't help feeling that it's for the best. They could never
have broken away--not with him alive. _You_ would never have taken them
in--if he had had to be included! You couldn't have done it.... But now,"
her voice was aquiver with eagerness, "now, say that they may come! Say
that Mrs. Volsky may take Katie's place. Oh, I know that she isn't very
neat; that she doesn't cook as we would want her to. But she can learn
and, free from the influence of her husband and son, I'm sure she'll
change amazingly. Say that you'll give the family a chance!"

The Superintendent was wavering. "I'm not so sure," she began, and
hesitated. "I'm not so sure--"

Rose-Marie interrupted. Her voice was very soft.

"It will mean," she said, "that Lily will be here, under the doctor's
care. It will mean that she will get well--perhaps! For her sake give
them a chance...."

The Superintendent's eyes were fixed upon space. When she spoke, she
spoke irrelevantly.

"Then," she said, "that was where you went every afternoon--to the
tenement. You weren't out with some man, after all?"

Rose-Marie hung her head. "I went to the tenement every afternoon," she
admitted, "to the _tenement_. Oh, I know that you're angry with me--I
know it. And I don't in the least blame you. I've been deceitful, I've
_sne