hool room, where all the girls were eager to
know what Clematis had stolen. But Jane could tell them nothing.

"She just asked me what you said," Jane declared.

"That's just like Jane," cried Sally. "She knows all the time, only
she won't tell."

While they were talking, Clematis was finding a cosy corner in the
playroom, and smoothing out every hair on Deborah's smooth back.

Deborah seemed very happy, and purred all the time.

"I don't care if they do say mean things, and make noses at me. You
won't ever, will you, Debby?"

"Purr, purr, purr," said Deborah. No indeed, she never would.

Time went fast, and it was three o'clock before Clematis had got
Deborah settled down for sleep in a little bed she made for her
beneath the window.

"Take her downstairs now, Clematis," said Miss Rose, coming in.
"Then come up to Mrs. Snow's room. We want to ask you some
questions."

Again Clematis turned red. She went slowly downstairs, with Deborah
under one arm. The other hand deep in her apron pocket.

"She surely looks as if something were wrong," thought Miss Rose, as
Clematis disappeared.

Clematis looked very unhappy when she went to Mrs. Snow's room.

"Come in, little girl," said Mrs. Snow, kindly. "There are some
things I want to ask you about."

"Yes'm," replied Clematis, her lips quivering.

"First, I want to know what all this talk is about. Some of the
girls were saying that you took something which did not belong to
you. Can that be true?"

Clematis hung her head. The tears came into her eyes.

"Don't cry, Clematis," said Miss Rose. "Just tell Mrs. Snow what it
is, and perhaps we can make it all right again."

"What was it, little girl?" asked Mrs. Snow, as she drew her
nearer.

"It was mine, I found it first," sobbed Clematis.

"Yes, but you must remember that if we find a thing, that does not
make it ours. We must find the true owner, and give it back. That is
the only honest thing to do."

"What was it you found?" asked Miss Rose.

"I don't kn-ow."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do-wn by the fe-ence."

"Where is it now, Clematis?" Mrs. Snow spoke kindly, as she wiped
the child's face with her handkerchief.

"It's in my pocket," answered Clematis.

She drew out her closed hand, held it before the two ladies, and
slowly opened it.

Within lay a limp, withered dandelion blossom.

CHAPTER VIII

A VISITOR

Mrs. Snow still tells the story of how Clematis stole the first
dande