All the way home she thought the matter over and then a plan came to her.
Just back of the house there was an alley and the little children there
were always looking through the fence at the flowers in her beautiful
garden. She would tell stories to these little children and see what she
could do. So she went into the house to find the stories she would use.
All the afternoon she looked in her old books. Then she was sure she was
ready.

For a long time she hesitated the next morning as she dressed. She must
look her very best if she was to win the children. Finally she chose a
little blue gingham dress that she liked much--perhaps they would like it
too. It was only ten o'clock when she went into the garden to wait. Dear
me! Weren't they coming this morning? One hour passed and then another
half.

Just then Tommy, the boy who threw stones, and chased the cats, and did
all sorts of things that were naughty, pushed his dirty face against the
fence. Oh my, she could never tell stories to him! But Tommy saw her there
in the garden and said:

"Wisht you would give me a posy. Mom's sick and she hain't got none."

Then the gate of the garden was opened and Barbara said:

"Of course I will give you some flowers for your mother. Choose what you
would like and I will cut it with these shears."

"Um! Um!" said Tommy. "Um! I'd like some of them blue flowers. Say, I like
blue flowers, and blue sky, and I like that blue dress. I wish Mary had a
blue dress."

"And who is Mary?" said Barbara.

"Oh, she is one of my sisters," said Tommy. "You see, there is six of us
and Mary is the pretty one. She has blue eyes and curls. Um! Um! I wish
you could see her."

"I'd like to see her," said Barbara. "If you will go and bring her here I
will tell you both a story. Would you like that?"

"Sure," said Tommy. "Sure I would. Kin I bring them all?" and off he ran
with his precious flowers.

In five minutes he was back, followed by Mary and Katie and Jimmie and
Mike and Susan--all dirty, all barefoot, and all in a hurry to see the
flowers and hear the story. About this time Barbara began to feel queer
inside. How could she ever keep them still? Suppose they should begin to
run over her father's flowers! She almost wished she had not asked them to
come. But she remembered for what she was working, and she said to
herself, "Chante, _I serve_; Chante--_I serve_," over and over till her
courage came back.

Then she seated them all on