to sweeten her tones to mellowness, nor to induce her to
regard human nature with charity.

"Don't you understand?" she said bluntly, "all the huntin' in the world
ain't goin' to find a mother what don't mean to be found?"

"But what makes you so sure she don't?" persisted Miss Bonkowski,
letting the child take possession of spoon and cup, and quite revelling
in the further touch of the dramatic developing in the situation.

Unconsciously Mary pressed the child to her as she spoke. "It's as plain
as everything else that's wrong and hard in this world," she said, and
each word clicked itself off with metallic sharpness and decision, "the
mother brought the child here late yesterday, waited until it was asleep
in the room over there, then went off and left it. Why she chose this
here particular Tenement we don't know and likely never will, though I
ain't no doubt myself there's a reason. It ain't a pretty story or easy
to understand but it's common enough, and you'll find that mother never
means to be found, an' in as big a city as this 'n', tain't no use to
try."

"I will not--cannot--believe it," murmured Norma--in her best stage
tones. Then she turned again to the child. "And how did it come here,
dearie? Has baby a papa--where is baby's papa?"

The little one rattled the tin spoon around the sides of the cup. "Papa
bye," she returned chasing a solitary crumb intently. "Yosie sick,
mamma sick, Tante sick, but Angel, her ain't sick when she come way a
way on--on--" a worried look flitted over the flushed little face, and
she looked up at Norma expectantly as if expecting her to supply the
missing word, "on,--Angel come way a way on--_vaisseau_--" at last with
baby glee she brought the word forth triumphantly, "Papa bye and Angel
and mamma and Tante and Yosie come way a way on _vaisseau_!"

"You see," said Mary Carew, looking at Norma, and the others shook their
heads sadly.

Miss Bonkowski accepted the situation. "Though what a vasso is, or a
tante either, is beyond me to say," she murmured.

"But what is goin' to be done with her, then?" ventured little Mrs.
Tomlin, holding her own baby closer as she spoke.

There was a pause which nobody seemed to care to break, during which
more than one of the women saw the child on Mary's knee through dim eyes
which turned the golden hair into a halo of dazzling brightness. Then
Norma got up and began to clear away the remains of breakfast and to
clatter the crockery from