this
neighborhood?"

"Why--I belong here, 'course. Me an' grandpa live in the littlest house
in Ne' York. Me an' him we live together, all by our two selves, an' we
have the nicest times there is. But--but, did you want a bag?" she
finished, pleadingly. Time was passing and she was too busy to waste
more. She wondered, too, why anybody so rich as to ride in a carriage
should tarry thus long in Elbow Lane, though, sometimes, people did get
astray and turn into the Lane on their way to cross the big bridge.

"Yes, little Glory, as I heard them call you, I meant just what I said.
I wish to buy all your stock as well as pay for a new basket. Will you
please invite your friends to share the feast with you? I'm sorry I
caused you so much trouble and here, the little boy suggested fifty-five
cents, suppose we make it a dollar? Will that be wholly satisfactory?"

The face of Take-a-Stitch was again a study in its perplexity. The
temptation to take the proffered money was great, but a sense of
justice was even greater. After a pause, she said with complete
decision, "It must be this way; you give me the fifty cents for Toni
Salvatore--that'll be hisn. You take the goobers an' give 'em to who you
want. I won't take no pay for the basket, 'cause I can mend it again;
nor for myself, 'cause I hain't earned it. I hain't hollered scarce any
to sell such a lot. That's fair. Will I put 'em in your carriage, lady?"

"No, no! Oh, dear! No, indeed. Call your mates and divide among them as
you choose. Then--I wonder why my man doesn't come back. The coachman
can't leave the horses, and the footman seems to have lost himself
looking for a number it should be easy to find."

The children had gathered about Glory who was now beaming with delight
at the chance to bestow a treat upon her mates as well as enjoy one
herself. Indeed, her hunger made her begin to crack the goobers with her
strong white teeth and to swallow the kernels, skins and all. But again
Miss Bonnicastle touched her shoulder, though this time most gently,
asking:

"If this is Elbow Lane, and you live in or near it, can you show me the
way to the house of Captain Simon Beck, an old blind man?"

Glory gasped and dropped her basket. All the rosy color forsook her face
and fear usurped its gaiety. For a time, she stared at the handsome old
lady in terror, then demanded, brokenly, "Be--you--from--'Snug Harbor'?"

It was now the stranger's turn to stare. Wondering why the ch