demonstrations of five excited
children, introduced into an environment entirely unfamiliar, proved
absorbing to all the household. With the exception of the baby who
clung shyly to Persis, refusing to leave her side, the new
reinforcements to the Dale family at once organized exploring
expeditions about the premises. Little feet clattered on the stairs
and shrilly sweet voices announced discoveries from garret to cellar.
Joel, who had improved the first opportunity to withdraw to his own
room, pushed the heaviest chair against the door in lieu of a key and
sat in the chair. And though his knob rattled a number of times, the
investigations of the juvenile explorers ceased at his threshold.

When the summons of the supper-bell sounded through the house, Joel was
uncertain whether to indicate his displeasure by remaining in his room
or to present himself as usual, allowing Persis to see with her own
eyes the condition to which her selfishness had reduced him. He
decided on the latter course, not so much as a concession to his
appetite as because he feared that in Persis' present absorption, his
absence would hardly be noticed. Wearing the expression becoming one
stricken by the hand of a friend, he left his room and faced the
invaders below.

The dining-room table had been extended to a length which carried his
thoughts back to his childhood. The baby, a frail-looking child,
between two and three, had not yet attained the dignity of a place at
the table but sat in a high-chair at Persis' left and drummed with her
spoon upon the adjustable shelf which served the double purpose of
keeping her in place and supporting her bowl of bread and milk. The
renaissance of the high-chair was responsible for a curious surge of
emotion through Joel's consciousness. Persis herself had once occupied
that chair and for a moment his sister's matronly figure at the head of
the table was singularly suggestive of his mother. He dropped into his
place with a hollow groan.

"Has he got a stomach ache?" inquired five-year-old Celia from the
other end of the table. The echoing whisper was distinctly audible.
Betty, ten years old, pink, prim and pretty, blushed reproachfully at
her new foster sister, while Mary, who was just bringing in the milk
toast, was agitated by a tremor which imperiled the family supper.

"Sh!" Persis temporarily subdued the outbreaking of her new
responsibilities by a lift of the eyebrows, and began to serve