illed Mr. Woodstock with dismay, and the habitual
hardness of his face suggested a displeasure he did not in reality feel.

"As you say, it's a strange notion," he remarked, smiling very
slightly. "I don't know why you shouldn't have your own way, Ida,
but--it'll cost you a good deal of trouble, you know."

"You are mistaking me, grandfather. You think this a curious whim I
have got into my head, and your kindness would tempt you to let me do a
silly thing just for the sake of having my way. It is no foolish fancy.
It's not for my sake, but for the children's."

Her eyes were aglow with earnestness, and her voice trembled.

"Do you think they'd care for it?" asked her grandfather, impressed by
something in her which he had never seen before.

"Care for it!--Imagine a poor little thing that has been born in a
wretched, poverty-stricken, disorderly home, a home that is no home,
and growing up with no knowledge of anything but those four hateful
walls and the street outside. No toys, no treats, no change of air;
playing in the gutter, never seeing a beautiful thing, never hearing of
the pleasures which rich people's children would pine and die without
And a child for all that."

Mr. Woodstock cleared his throat and smoothed the newspaper upon his
knee.

"How will you get them here, Ida?"

"Oh, leave that to me! Let us choose a day; wouldn't Saturday be best!
I will go there myself, and pick out the children, and get their
mothers to promise to have them ready. Then I'll arrange to have one of
those carts you see at Sunday-school treats. Why, the ride here, that
alone! And you'll let me have tea for them,--just bread and butter and
a bun,--it will cost not half as much as my new dress this week, not
_half_ as much--"

"Come, come, I can't stand this!" growled out Abraham, getting up from
the seat. "I'd _give_ them the garden, for good and all, rather than
see you like that. Say Saturday, if it's fine; if not, Monday, or when
you like."

On the following morning the details were arranged, and the next day
Ida went to Litany Lane. She preferred to go alone, and on this errand
Mr. Woodstock would have found a difficulty in accompanying her. Ida
knew exactly the nature of the task she had taken in hand, and found it
easier than it would have been to the ordinary young lady. She jotted
down the names of some twenty little girls, selecting such as were
between the ages of eight and twelve, and obtained promises that a