and white kid shoes, like that one
I saw this morning!" she mused rapturously.

She pinched the spot where she fancied the doll's feet ought to be.

"Yes, she's got shoes, sure enough! I bet they're white, too. They _feel_
white. Oh, what fun I shall have with her,"--she hugged the doll
fondly,--"if Uncle and Aunt don't take her away!"

The sudden thought made her stand still in horror. "They sold Mother's
little clock for rum," she said bitterly. "They sold the ring with the red
stone that Father gave me on my birthday when I was seven. They sold the
presents that I got at Sunday School last year. Oh, wouldn't it be dreadful
if they should sell my new doll! And I know they will want to if they see
her." She squeezed the bundle closer with the prescient pang of parting.

"Maybe they'll be out somewhere." With this faint hope she reached the
tenement and crept up the dingy stairs. She peeped in at the door. Alas!
Her uncle and aunt were in the kitchen, through which she had to pass. They
had company; some dirty-looking men and women, and there were a jug and
glasses on the table before them. Mary's heart sank, but she nodded bravely
to the company and tried to slip through the crowd to the other room. But
her aunt was quick to see that she carried something under her coat.

"What you got there? A Christmas present?" she sneered.

Mary flushed. "No," she said slowly, "just something I found."

"Found? Hello, what is it? A package!"

Her uncle advanced and snatched it from her.

"Please," pleaded Mary, "please, I found it. It is mine. I think it is only
a doll."

"A doll! Huh! Who needs a doll?" hiccoughed her uncle. "We want something
more to drink. We'll sell it--"

A bellow of laughter resounded through the room. The paper being torn
roughly away, poor Miranda stood revealed in all her faded beauty. The
pallid waxen face, straggling hair, and old-fashioned dress presented a
sorry sight to the greedy eyes which had expected to find something
exchangeable for drink. A sorry sight she was to Mary, who had hoped for
something so much lovelier. A flush of disappointment came into her cheek,
and tears to her eyes.

"Here, take your old doll," said her uncle roughly, thrusting it into her
arms. "Take your old doll and get away with her. If that's the best you can
find you'd better _steal_ something next time."

Steal something! Had she not in fact stolen it? Mary knew very well that
she had, and she flushed pinke