into the library where Mrs. Ramsey was sitting.
The child gazed at pictures and ornaments, soft draperies and
luxurious couches, feeling as if this were the court of a queen. She
had knocked about too much in the streets to be very shy, but she was
bewildered by all that she saw, so she sat on the edge of a chair not
speaking, nor even listening to what was said of her.

"I suppose the child's morals are far from good," Miss Barnes said;
"but little Edna Conway, who is a dear child, seems to have taken a
fancy to this poor little waif." And Miss Barnes told of Edna's trust
in bringing Maggie to the Home, of Maggie's love for the little
kitten, and all that she knew of the child from her own story.

"She must have some good in her," said Mrs. Ramsey, thoughtfully.
"Anyhow, Miss Barnes, she is a poor, neglected, friendless child, and
such are the ones for whom the Home is intended." She sat musingly
regarding Maggie. "Come here, little girl," she said, presently.

Maggie started, but obediently left her chair and stood before Mrs.
Ramsey, who looked at her searchingly. "How old are you?" she asked.

"I don't know, ma'am."

"How long have you lived with this woman whom you have just left?"

"I don't know ezackly. I lived with Mis' Ryan first. She told me she
missed my mother. She was right good to me, she was, but she had to go
to a place, an' she bound me out to Mis' Hawkins, to look after the
young uns and do chores. Mis' Hawkins is a hummer."

"A what?"

"She's a reg'lar out an' outer; jus' tur'ble; drinks an' fights. She's
been tuck up lots of times, so you can't skeer her that a-way."

"Do you know anything about your mother? Where does Mrs. Ryan live?"

"She lives to a place in the country. She tol' me my mother was
better'n mos'; that she was a lady in the millingnery line, an' made
grand bonnets and hats."

"And your mother is not living?"

"No, ma'am. She got consumpted and died, Mis' Ryan said."

Mrs. Ramsey again sat thinking. "Miss Barnes," she said, after a
pause, "you were perfectly right; it would not do for you to take the
responsibility of this. We must establish our legal claim to this
child. I do not imagine it will be difficult. You may leave Maggie
with me. It is too late to do anything this evening, but to-morrow I
will settle the question." And Maggie found herself the guest of--it
seemed to her--the most elegant lady in the land.

"We shall see you again at the Home, Maggie," said Mi