did!" Margaret said, laughing. "Mother
won't know you at all with such a muddy face and such a muddy apron!"

Dorothy laughed shakily at this, and several other little girls,
passing in orderly file, laughed heartily. Margaret crossed the
lines of children to the room where they played and ate their lunches
on wet days. She shut herself in with the child and the fur-clad lady.

"Now you're all right!" said Margaret, gayly. And, Dorothy was
presently comfortable in a big chair, wrapped in a rug from the
motor-car, with her face washed, and her head dropped languidly
back against her chair, as became an interesting invalid. The Irish
janitor was facetious as he replenished the fire, and made her laugh
again. Margaret gave her a numerical chart to play with, and saw with
satisfaction that the little head was bent interestedly over it.

Quiet fell upon the school; the muffled sound of lessons recited
in concert presently reached them. Theodore returned, reporting that
the doctor would come as soon as he could and that Dorothy's mother
was away at a card-party, but that Dorothy's "girl" would come for
her as soon as the bread was out of the oven. There was nothing to
do but wait.

"It seems a miracle," said the strange lady, in a low tone, when she
and Margaret were alone again with the child. "But I don't believe
she was scratched!"

"I don't think so," Margaret agreed. "Mother says no child who can
cry is very badly hurt."

"They made such a horrible noise," said the other, sighing wearily.
She passed a white hand, with one or two blazing great stones upon
it, across her forehead. Margaret had leisure now to notice that by
all signs this was a very great lady indeed. The quality of her furs,
the glimpse of her gown that the loosened coat showed, her rings, and
most of all the tones of her voice, the authority of her manner, the
well-groomed hair and skin and hands, all marked the thoroughbred.

"Do you know that you managed that situation very cleverly just now?"
said the lady, with a keen glance that made Margaret color. "One has
such a dread of the crowd, just public sentiment, you know. Some
odious bystander calls the police, they crowd against your driver,
perhaps a brick gets thrown. We had an experience in England once--"
She paused, then interrupted herself. "But I don't know your name?"
she said brightly.

Margaret supplied it, was led to talk a little of her own people.

"Seven of you, eh? Seven's too