Miss Rose looked up quickly.

Clematis also looked up. Her face turned red, and she put a finger
in her mouth.

"Tell him to come in here."

In another minute a small, thin man walked in.

He was poorly dressed, and looked as if he had been ill.

"Did you wish to see me about one of the children?" asked Mrs.
Snow.

"Yes, marm, about this little girl right here."

The man turned and smiled at Clematis, who was standing close by
Miss Rose.

"Hello, Clematis, I thought I should find you somewhere."

Clematis smiled too, but she did not speak.

"Oh," said Mrs. Snow, "are you the one who took care of this little
girl?"

"Yes, marm. I've had her ever since she was a little baby."

Mrs. Snow thought a minute.

"I suppose you want to take her home with you."

"I don't know about that. I have no home to keep a child in, and do
right by her. You see, my wife is sick most of the time."

"Don't you know any of her folks who could care for her?"

"No, marm. Her mother came to our house when Clematis was a tiny
baby. She said the father was dead. Then she died too, and we could
never find out who she was."

"Do you know her last name?" asked Miss Rose.

"No, miss. We never knew her last name. She said it was Jones, but
we never believed that was the truth. This little girl we just
called Clematis."

"Didn't she have anything to help you find out who she was?" asked
Mrs. Snow in surprise.

"Not a single thing, except this picture."

The man took out a small photograph.

It showed three girls standing together in front of a brick
building.

"That is her mother on the left, marm, but I don't see how the
picture helps very much."

"That is true. Still, the picture is better than nothing."

"That is just what we thought, marm," Mr. Smith replied. "We kept
her along, hoping we should find some one to claim her, but no one
came. She is too big for us to care for now."

"Then you are ready to give her up?"

"Yes, marm, if you will care for her. She is very restless, and
always wanting to run off."

Mrs. Snow turned to Clematis.

"Do you think you would rather stay here, than go back with Mr.
Smith?"

"Yes'm," said Clematis, quickly. She had been thinking of the visits
to the country. If she went back to the yard, all made of bricks,
how would she ever see the grass and flowers?

"Very well, Mr. Smith. I think you have done a good deal to keep her
as long as you have. She was well fed, even if she d