us to
sit on the grass when we're not well.--Sure she doesn't, Joan?"

"Never, never!" Joan affirmed solemnly, shaking her tangled golden head.

The dwarf got to his feet.

"Very well; I'll have to obey, I suppose," he said with a smile. "Now, I
must find out where you two are to be put up for the night. It's high
time you were under shelter. This sort of thing," he went on, waving his
hand towards the open space, the caravan, the dying fire, and the
chained bear, "is not what you're used to; anybody with half an eye
could see that--even Joe, although it suits his purpose to pretend he
doesn't. To-morrow you'll tell me all about your home and your people,
and how you wandered this way, and everything. Then we'll see what's to
be done next," he added under his breath.

Moll carried the children off to the caravan, where Mr. Harris was
already sleeping the sound sleep which is generally supposed to be the
outcome of an easy conscience. She was about to bundle them, clothes and
all, into a bed hastily spread upon what to Darby looked like a narrow
shelf. He was too sleepy to offer any objections to the arrangement; but
Joan stoutly resisted, declaring that she never went to bed without
being undressed and saying her prayers.

"Boo-oo!" she wailed, putting her knuckles into her eyes. "I wants a
nightgown, and I wants to say my p'ayers," she persisted.

"Shut up, will you!" ordered Moll, giving the little girl a rude shake.
She would have slapped her, only she dared not disturb her better half,
for then the blows might have gone round. "I ha'n't got no nightgownd
for ee," she went on, in an angry undertone; "but ee can take off yer
frock an' wrap the shawl roun' ee." Which Joan proceeded to do,
although she felt that nurse's old tartan shoulder-shawl was but a sorry
substitute for a nightgown.

"Now I's goin' to say my p'ayers," she said, kneeling on the bare floor
at this prayerless woman's knee, with closed eyes and piously-folded
hands--a pathetic little figure in her comical attire. "You'll say the
big words and join in the 'amen.' That's what nurse does. Is you ready?
Now--

"Gentle Jesus, meek'n mild,
Look upon a ickle child,
Pity my--'I can't say it!'--
Suffer me to come to Thee.

"Fain I would to Thee be brought;
Dea'est Lord, forbid it not;
In the kin'dom of Thy gwace
Give a ickle Joan a place. Amen!"

After the "amen" Joan opened her big blue eyes and looked steadily a