who did weep,
lifted up his woolly head and added his piteous wails to the concert. It
was a _tableau vivant_.

"Samanthy Ann!" called Miss Vilda excitedly; "Samanthy Ann! Come right
here and tell me what to do!"

The person thus adjured flew in from the porch, leaving a serpentine
trail of red, yellow, and blue rags in her wake. "Land o' liberty!" she
exclaimed, as she surveyed the group. "Where'd they come from, and what
air they tryin' to act out?"

"This boy's a baby agent, as near as I can make out; he wants I should
adopt this red-headed baby, but says I ain't obliged to take him too,
and makes out they haven't got any home. I told him I wa'n't adoptin'
any babies just now, and at that he burst out cryin', and the other two
followed suit. Now, have the three of 'em just escaped from some
asylum, or are they too little to be lunatics?"

Timothy dried his tears, in order that Gay should be comforted and
appear at her best, and said penitently: "I cried before I thought,
because Gay hasn't had anything but cookies since last night, and she'll
have no place to sleep unless you'll let us stay here just till morning.
We went by all the other houses, and chose this one because everything
was so beautiful."

"Nothin' but cookies sence--Land o' liberty!" ejaculated Samantha Ann,
starting for the kitchen.

"Come back here, Samanthy! Don't you leave me alone with 'em, and don't
let's have all the neighbors runnin' in; you take 'em into the kitchen
and give 'em somethin' to eat, and we'll see about the rest afterwards."

Gay kindled at the first casual mention of food; and, trying to clamber
out of the basket, fell over the edge, thumping her head smartly on the
stone steps. Miss Vilda covered her face with her hands, and waited
shudderingly for another yell, as the child's carnation stocking and
terra-cotta head mingled wildly in the air. But Lady Gay disentangled
herself, and laughed the merriest burst of laughter that ever woke the
echoes. That was a joke; her life was full of them, served fresh every
day; for no sort of adversity could long have power over such a nature
as hers. "Come get supper," she cooed, putting her hand in Samantha's;
adding that the "nasty lady needn't come," a remark that happily escaped
detection, as it was rendered in very unintelligible "early English."

Miss Avilda tottered into the darkened sitting-room and sank on to a
black haircloth sofa, while Samantha ushered the wanderers into