ame here to see if Constance could go to the theatre with us
to-night," explained Marjorie, rather shyly. "No, thank you, I won't sit
down. I promised mother I'd hurry home."

"It is very kind in you to ask my daughter to share your pleasure," said
Constance's father, his somber face lighting with a smile that reminded
Marjorie of the sun suddenly bursting from behind a cloud. "I should
like to have her go."

"Have her go," repeated the thin old man, bowing and beaming.

"Is there a band at the theatre?" piped a small, solemn voice.

Marjorie smiled down into the earnest, upraised face of the little boy.

"Oh, yes, there is a big, big band at the theatre."

"Then take me, too," returned the child calmly.

"No, no," reproved Constance gently, "Charlie can't go to-night."

A grieved look crept into the big black eyes. Without further words the
quaint little boy limped over to the old man, whom Constance had
addressed as Uncle John, and hid behind him.

Forgetting formality, tender-hearted Marjorie sprang after him. She
knelt beside him and gathered him into her arms. He made no resistance,
merely regarded her with wistful curiosity.

"Listen, dear little man," she said, "you and Constance and I will go to
the place where the big band plays some Saturday afternoon, and we'll
sit on the front seat where you can see every single thing they do.
Won't that be nice?"

The boy nodded and slipped his tiny hand in hers. "I'm going to play in
the band when I grow up," he confided. "Connie can go to-night if she
promises to tell me all about it afterward."

"You dear little soul," bubbled Marjorie, stroking his thick hair that
fell carelessly over his forehead and almost into his bright eyes.

"I'll tell you all about everything, Charlie," promised Constance.

"That means you will go," cried Marjorie, joyfully, rising from the
floor, the child's hand still in hers.

"Yes, I will," returned Constance hesitatingly, "only--I--haven't
anything pretty to wear."

"Pretty to wear," repeated Uncle John faithfully.

"Never mind that," reassured Marjorie. "Just wear a fresh white blouse
with your blue suit. I'm sure that will look nice."

"Will look nice," agreed Uncle John so promptly, that Marjorie started
slightly, then, noting that Constance seemed embarrassed, she nodded
genially at the old man, who smiled back like a pleased child.

Remembering her mother's injunction, Marjorie took hasty leave of the
Stevens famil