know."

"You're a very hasty gentleman," whined Phyllis; "you know you were
wrong once before, about us not telling you the secret about the
Russian. Do let Bobbie tell you about the labels!"

"Well. Go ahead!" said Perks, grudgingly.

"Well, then," said Bobbie, fumbling miserably, yet not without hope, in
her tightly stuffed pocket, "we wrote down all the things everybody said
when they gave us the things, with the people's names, because Mother
said we ought to be careful--because--but I wrote down what she
said--and you'll see."

But Bobbie could not read the labels just at once. She had to swallow
once or twice before she could begin.

Mrs. Perks had been crying steadily ever since her husband had opened
the wash-house door. Now she caught her breath, choked, and said:--

"Don't you upset yourself, Missy. _I_ know you meant it kind if he
doesn't."

"May I read the labels?" said Bobbie, crying on to the slips as she
tried to sort them. "Mother's first. It says:--

"'Little Clothes for Mrs. Perks's children.' Mother said, 'I'll find
some of Phyllis's things that she's grown out of if you're quite sure
Mr. Perks wouldn't be offended and think it's meant for charity. I'd
like to do some little thing for him, because he's so kind to you. I
can't do much because we're poor ourselves.'"

Bobbie paused.

"That's all right," said Perks, "your Ma's a born lady. We'll keep the
little frocks, and what not, Nell."

"Then there's the perambulator and the gooseberries, and the sweets,"
said Bobbie, "they're from Mrs. Ransome. She said: 'I dare say Mr.
Perks's children would like the sweets. And the perambulator was got for
my Emmie's first--it didn't live but six months, and she's never had but
that one. I'd like Mrs. Perks to have it. It would be a help with her
fine boy. I'd have given it before if I'd been sure she'd accept of
it from me.' She told me to tell you," Bobbie added, "that it was her
Emmie's little one's pram."

"I can't send that pram back, Bert," said Mrs Perks, firmly, "and I
won't. So don't you ask me--"

"I'm not a-asking anything," said Perks, gruffly.

"Then the shovel," said Bobbie. "Mr. James made it for you himself. And
he said--where is it? Oh, yes, here! He said, 'You tell Mr. Perks it's a
pleasure to make a little trifle for a man as is so much respected,' and
then he said he wished he could shoe your children and his own children,
like they do the horses, because, well, he knew what