ecided her direction for her, even as Mrs. Gibson's
counsels had directed her course.

The child had no idea where she was going. She knew no one to whom she
might turn in her distress. Not even with Mrs. Gibson would she be safe
from the horror which impended. She had but one impulse in her mind and
that was to get beyond the reach of the terrible woman, or was it a
monster? who was surely coming after her. On and on she walked through
the town with her little band trudging bravely along beside her. People
turned to look at the funny group and smiled good-naturedly as they
passed, and one man, a little more amused than the rest, shouted after
them, "Where you goin', sis, with that orphan's home?"

But Patsy Ann's dignity was impregnable. She walked on with her head in
the air, the desire for safety tugging at her heart.

The hours passed and the gentle coolness of morning turned into the
fierce heat of noon, and still with frequent rests they trudged on,
Patsy ever and anon using her divining hand, unconscious that she was
doubling and redoubling on her tracks. When the whistles blew for twelve
she got her little brood into the shade of a poplar tree and set them
down to the lunch which, thoughtful little mother that she was, she had
brought with her. After that they all stretched themselves out on the
grass that bordered the sidewalk, for all the children were tired out,
and baby John was both sleepy and cross. Even Patsy Ann drowsed and
finally dropped into the deep slumber of childhood. They looked too
peaceful and serene for passers-by to bother them, and so they slept and
slept.

It was past three o'clock when the little guardian awakened with a
start, and shook her charges into activity. John wept a little at first,
but after a while took up his journey bravely with the rest.

She had just turned into a side street, discouraged and bewildered, when
the round face of a coloured woman standing in the doorway of a
whitewashed cottage caught her eye and attention. Once more she paused
and consulted her watery oracle, then turned to encounter the gaze of
the round-faced woman. The oracle had spoken and she turned into the
yard.

"Whaih you goin', honey? You sut'ny look lak you plumb tukahed out. Come
in an' tell me all 'bout yo'se'f, you po' little t'ing. Dese yo' little
brothas an' sistahs?"

"Yes'm," said Patsy Ann.

"W'y, chil', whaih you goin'?"

"I don' know," was the truthful answer.

"You don' know