'es on. Each of us has other clo'es--think of
that! You have 'em, too, don't you? what your folks sent you from that
boat where you used to live."

"The boat where he used to live!" Little Saint Anne's words spoke the
thought of his own heart. The ten days since he had left it made the
Water Lily seem far back in his life and gave him a wild desire to run
off and find it again. Why should he, whom Gerald had openly despised,
be chained to that boy's bedside? Why should his own holiday be
spoiled for a stranger, an interloper? There had been times, many of
them, when he had almost hated Gerald, who was by no means a patient
invalid. But whenever this feeling arose Jim had but to look at
patient Lucetta and remember that, but for him, she would be alone in
her care for her sick guest.

Now he was growing homesick again for the sight of dear faces and the
pretty Water Lily, and to put that longing aside, he asked:

"Saint Anne, do you think you could carry a dish very carefully? If it
had chicken on it could you hold it right side up and not lose a
single bit? Because if you could, or can, I 'low the best thing you
could do would be to ask mamma to send that nice dinner out here. Then
we two would go down by the spring and sit under the persimmon tree
and eat it. Just you and I together. Think of that!"

Saint Anne's face lighted brilliantly, then instantly clouded. "None
the rest? Not Wesley, nor Saint Augustine, nor Dorcas, nor Sheba, nor
teeny-tiny David boy? Just me alone? I--I couldn't. Mamma says it's
mean to be stingy of our things, so when I have two 'simmonses I
always give one to who's nearest. Not to give chicken would be
meaner--'meaner 'n pussley'! I don't mind being hungry--not much I
don't mind it--but when any of us is selfish all papa has to do is say
'Pussley, pussley!' quick, just like that, an' we stop right away.
But--but I'll bring yours, if mamma'll let me, and I'll turn my face
right the other way while you eat it, so I shan't be tempted to 'covet
my neighbor's--anything that is his.' That's in my kittenchasm that we
childern say to mamma every Sunday, after we've had our milk. I'll run
right away now."

Quite sure that his request would be granted and hoping that the
surplus of Gerald's dinner would be plentiful, Jim went to the spring
and filled the rusty bucket always waiting there. Then he plucked six
big burdock leaves and arranged them on a boulder. The little maid of
the sweet, serious