ly warmth of the
blue air, had reached Julia's little heart.

When she was quite dressed, and was standing at the window patiently
watching for her father, Emeline came and stood beside her.

"I'll tell you what!" said Emeline suddenly. "I'll go, too! It's too
grand to be indoors today; we'll just go out to the Park and take in the
whole show! And then perhaps papa'll take us somewhere to dinner!"

She began swiftly to dress, pinning on a hat that George liked, and
working on long gray kid gloves as a complement to a gray gown. Then she
came to stand behind Julia again, and both watched the street.

"I guess he's waiting for his change?" suggested Julia, and Emeline
laughed.

"We'll walk over and take the Geary Street car," said she. "We'll go
right to the fountain, and get dummy seats. And we could have dinner at
the Poodle Dog--"

"Here he comes!" Julia cried. And indeed George was to be seen for a
moment, between two friends, standing on the corner.

A long wait ensued. Then steps came up the stairs. Emeline, followed by
Julia, went to the door. It was not George, but a note from George,
delivered by Henny, of Cassidy's saloon.

"Dear Em," Emeline read, "a couple of the fellows want me to go to
Emeryville, have dinner at Tony's, and sit in a little game afterward.
Tell Julie I will take her to the Park to-morrow--and buy her anything
she wants. George."

"Thanks, Henny," Emeline said, without visible emotion. But Julia's lip
quivered, and she burst into bitter crying. Six-years-old knows no
tomorrows, and Julia tasted the bitterness of despair. She cried
quietly, her little body screwed into a big armchair, her face hidden in
the crook of a thin little arm. Emeline stood it as long as she could,
then she slapped and shook Julia to stop her, and Julia strangled and
shrieked hysterically.

Peace was presently restored, and Julia was asked if she would like to
go see her Auntie Mame, and assented with a hiccough. So her mottled
little face was wiped with a soggy gray towel, and her bonnet
straightened, and they set out.

Mrs. Povey was so sympathetic that Emeline stayed with her for dinner, a
casual meal which Myrtle Montague and a sister actress came in to share.
Julia sat with them at table, and stuffed solemnly on fresh bread and
cheese, crab salad and smoked beef, hot tomato sauce and delicious
coffee. The coffee came to table in a battered tin pot, and the cream
was poured into the cups from the littl