s beating so fast that she was almost choked. "Have you
read it?"

"Yes, I've read it."

"Uncle Larry and Aunt Kate don't know I wrote it. I just had to
because if Uncle Larry loses his job it's all my fault. Not all mine
really for it wasn't exactly my fault that my mother died when I was
six months old and that daddy went to Heaven in June so there was no
one left to take care of me but Aunt Kate. I've tried to be good," she
resolutely winked back a tear, "and not make trouble. Mrs. Schuneman
and Mrs. Bracken and Mr. Bracken and Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Rawson and
Miss Thorley and Miss Carter and Mr. Strahan like me awfully. They
said so. I wish you'd please speak to them before you give your
advice. Will you?" eagerly.

The frown on Mr. Wells' face grew very black and threatening. It made
Mary Rose's little heart jump right into her mouth and she shut her
white teeth tight so that it wouldn't jump out.

"It's--it's awfully rude of me to speak of it," she went on in a low
shamed voice. "I shouldn't remind you, I know, but you are under an
obligation to me. I was neighborly when you were sick. I brought you
the goldfish. It isn't much that I ask, just for you to speak to the
tenements. If they say I'm a nuisance, why I won't say another word
because it's the law, but I _am_ getting bigger every day, now.
Please, promise me just that much?"

And Mr. Wells promised. He couldn't very well refuse. Mary Rose
caught his hand and hugged it to her thumping little heart.

"You're a kind, kind man," she said. "I know you are. I don't care
what people say. And you'll see I'm treated fair? That's all I ask,
Mr. Wells, honest it is! Just for the owner to be fair. Good night.
I'm going to tell everyone you didn't steal Jenny Lind."

CHAPTER XXII

There was a short story in the Waloo _Gazette_ the next evening that
would have interested Mary Rose very much if she had read it. It was
one of the little incidents that have both a pathetic and a humorous
appeal and it was very well written. It told of a little black-haired
swarthy-skinned girl who had always longed for long yellow curls. When
illness robbed her of the hated, black locks she had resolutely set to
work to earn money to buy a wig that she might return to school. All
summer she worked under the hot sun, picking berries for a neighboring
farmer, her bald head covered with a ragged straw hat, and when the
last berry was gathered and she h