We visited a little circus girl in her own tent,
and here's her picture!"

Marjorie held up to her mother's amazed view the picture of little
Vivian. It was taken in stage costume, and represented Vivian in one of
her clever acrobatic feats. Her pretty child-face wore a sweet smile, and
the whole effect of the photograph was dainty and graceful. Across a
corner was scrawled the word "Vivian" in large, childish letters.

"Did you buy this?" asked Mrs. Maynard, knowing that circus performers
often sold their photographs.

"Oh, no, indeed, Mother; she gave it to me. And what do you think,
Mother? The poor little thing has to live in a tent, and she wants to
live in a home! And it made her awful sad to see us, 'cause we have a
home, and we can wear regular dresses and shoes, and she has to wear
queer bloomer things,--and sandals on her feet!"

"But I don't understand, Marjorie," said Mrs. Maynard. "How do you know
all this? Did you talk with the child?"

"Oh, yes, Mother; we went in her tent, and saw her mother and sister. I
don't think they mind being in the circus so much. But Vivian feels just
awful about it! And she's such a sweet little thing; and, Mother, I have
the loveliest plan! Don't you think it would be nice for us to 'dopt
her, and let her live with us?"

"Midget, what are you talking about?" and Mrs. Maynard's face showed so
plainly her dissent to the proposition that Marjorie jumped out of her
lap, and ran across to her father, in the hope of better success.

"Now, Father," she said as she threw her arms around his neck, and drew
his arms around her; "do please pay 'tention to my plan! You know we
ought to do some good in this world, and what _could_ be better than
rescuing a poor little sad circus girl, and letting her live in our own
happy home with us? It wouldn't cost much,--she could have half of my
clothes, and half of Kitty's,--we could each get along with half, I know.
And we could both eat less,--that is, I could,--I don't know about Kit.
But anyway, Father, won't you think about it?"

"Yes, dear," said Mr. Maynard, looking fondly at his impetuous daughter;
"I'll think about it right now,--and I'll express my thoughts aloud, as I
think them. I think, first, that you're a generous and kind-hearted
little girl to want to give this poor child a home. And I think next,
that having made your suggestion, you must leave it to Mother and me to
decide the matter. And our decision is that four children