tout fingers tingled well.

'Mamma says, come to the door; it's too muddy to throw the money into
the street!' cried out a kindly child's voice as Tessa held up the old
cap, with beseeching eyes.

Up the wide stone steps went the street musicians, and the whole flock
came running down to give a handful of silver, and ask all sorts of
questions. Tessa felt so grateful that, without waiting for Tommo, she
sang her sweetest little song all alone. It was about a lost lamb, and
her heart was in the song; therefore she sang it well, so well that a
pretty young lady came down to listen, and stood watching the
bright-eyed girl, who looked about her as she sang, evidently enjoying
the light and warmth of the fine hall, and the sight of the lovely
children with their gay dresses, shining hair, and dainty little shoes.

'You have a charming voice, child. Who taught you to sing?' asked the
young lady kindly.

'My mother. She is dead now; but I do not forget,' answered Tessa, in
her pretty broken English.

'I wish she could sing at our tree, since Bella is ill,' cried one of
the children peeping through the banisters.

'She is not fair enough for the angel, and too large to go up in the
tree. But she sings sweetly, and looks as if she would like to see a
tree,' said the young lady.

'Oh, so much!' exclaimed Tessa; adding eagerly, 'my sister Ranza is
small and pretty as a baby-angel. She could sit up in the fine tree, and
I could sing for her from under the table.'

'Sit down and warm yourself, and tell me about Ranza,' said the kind
elder sister, who liked the confiding little girl, in spite of her
shabby clothes.

So Tessa sat down and dried the big boots over the furnace, and told her
story, while Tommo stood modestly in the background, and the children
listened with faces full of interest.

'O Rose! let us see the little girl; and if she will do, let us have
her, and Tessa can learn our song, and it will be splendid!' cried the
biggest boy, who sat astride of a chair, and stared at the harp with
round eyes.

'I'll ask mamma,' said Rose; and away she went into the dining-room
close by. As the door opened, Tessa saw what looked to her like a fairy
feast,--all silver mugs and flowery plates and oranges and nuts and rosy
wine in tall glass pitchers, and smoking dishes that smelt so
deliciously she could not restrain a little sniff of satisfaction.

'Are you hungry?' asked the boy, in a grand tone.

'Yes, sir,' meekly