lous child belongs to those
Stevens," she sneered.

"Ain't a 'diclus child," contradicted Charlie with dignity. "I'm a
mesishun. I can play the fiddle. I like Mary. I don't like you."

"I have heard that this Stevens boy was an idiot. Now I believe it,"
snapped Mignon. "I suppose I'll have to take him in until some one comes
after him. I didn't know his uncle was to be one of the musicians. If I
had, I would have made the leader hire some other man. I sha'n't tell
his uncle that he's here. He's hired to play for my dance, not to waste
his time taking a simpleton home. It's a perfect nuisance."

Her long hoop ear-rings swung and shook with the vehemence of her
displeasure.

Mary Raymond's face changed from red to white as she listened to the
French girl's callous speech. A lover of all children, she could not
endure the slight put upon this tiny boy. She straightened up with an
alacrity that nearly threw Charlie off his balance. Her blue eyes
flashed with righteous wrath. "How can you be so harsh with this cunning
boy?" she cried. "He isn't an idiot or a simpleton! He's as bright
as--as----" (courtesy conquered) "as any child of his age. Why, he's
only a baby. He's not going into your house, either, to wait for his
family to find him. He's going home now, and I'm going to take him."

"You can't go very far in that short dress and those thin slippers,"
mocked Mignon. "Don't be a silly. Bring him in, I say, and hurry. I must
go back to my guests."

"Please go to them," Mary spoke in icily dignified tones. "As for me, I
have my cloak." She held forth one bare arm on which swung her long,
gray evening cape. "I should never forgive myself if I neglected this
little tot. I'm sorry to be so rude, but I can't help it. I'm going now.
Good night. Come, Charlie." Wrapping her cloak about her, Mary gently
disengaged the violin case from Charlie's clutch, tucked it under one
arm and took firm hold of the youngster's hand. Charlie was still
regarding Mignon's swaying ear-rings with childish fascination.

"You are a orful naughty girl," he pouted reproachfully.

"If you leave me now to take that impudent child home, I'll never speak
to you again," threatened Mignon, her black eyes snapping.

"Very well. You may do as you please," was Mary's laconic response over
her shoulder. She had already started down the driveway with her
venturesome charge. The little boy had been momentarily awed into
silence at Mignon's menacing featur