ntion.

"Did ye look at him, Charley?" she asked as they walked along. "Did ye
mind the two kind eyes of him? The minute ever he looked at me I warn't
a bit afeard; an' I felt as I could work my fingers to the bone for
him."

Biddy went the next day to the place written on the card Mr. Phil
Kennedy had given her. She teased and coaxed Charley a long time before
she could get him to go with her, for he was very bashful, and hung back
all the way. While she stood at the foot of the steps, looking up to be
sure about the number, Mr. Phil Kennedy himself came to the door, and
called her in. He looked just as kind and smiling as on the day before,
and Biddy bobbed her curly head up and down, to show him how glad she
was. She was so eager that she did not think to say "Good-morning"; but
she cried out, in a glad, piping voice, "Here's Charley, sir; an' the
best boy ye can ever see! If ye wants a boy to take care of the furniss
an' fetch the coal; an' he can run of errants faster nor me; an' he
mended me doll. Charley--"

While Biddy talked she kept making little springs and jumps at Charley,
who kept edging away, so that Biddy was likely to get half way down the
block, when all at once Charley turned, and showed his speed by running
out of sight very quickly indeed. Biddy looked as if she was going to
run after him; but Mr. Phil Kennedy, who stood laughing in his doorway,
called after her, and Biddy came back. He led her through the hall, into
a very pleasant room. There was an open fire, a bright rug in front of
it, a mocking-bird in a cage in the window, and a beautiful lady sitting
in an arm-chair, with her feet on a cushion. The lady was pale; her
hands were thin and white; there were crutches beside her chair; but she
looked as if she were very happy; and when she smiled at Biddy, Biddy
could not have told why she felt as if her heart was filling her whole
body.

"Let her sit here near me, Phil," said the lady. Then, when Biddy was
seated between them, they asked her a great many questions, and Biddy
answered them all as well as she knew how. Both spoke so kindly,
sometimes the lady and sometimes the gentleman, and seemed to care so
much to know all about her, that Biddy took a new interest in her own
story, and told it very well. Like the stories of thousands of other
friendless children, Biddy's story was very simple. She didn't know
where she was born. She had never seen her parents. She didn't know if
she had an