dness such as Mary and Norma
could not always hide, even from her baby eyes.

True to the promise these ladies had made, she appeared regularly at
Kindergarten in the charge of her faithful squire, the Major, whose own
interest in the daily work had never flagged since the day he first
agreed to help Miss Stannard.

It was with surprise, therefore, that, late in November, Miss Ruth
noted the absence of the two for several successive days.

"Childern's obliged to get wore out fiddlin' with beads an' paper an'
such, in time," said the perverse and unconverted 'Tildy Peggins.
"That's the reason they's constant droppin' off, an' new ones comin' in.
There ain't enough willainy in Kindergarten to keep their minds
h'occupied. They's pinin' for the streets long afore you'd h'ever
believe it,--their 'earts ain't satisfied with beads and paper,
childern's obliged to have a little willainy mixed in."

But despite 'Tildy's pessimistic views, on the fifth morning of their
absence, Miss Ruth had just determined to send around to the Tenement,
when a knock summoned her to the door.

Outside stood the smiling Angel, in her little winter cloak and hood,
her hand in that of a very large, very grizzled, and very
military-looking man, who greeted Miss Stannard with a salute reminding
her at once of Joey.

"What has become of my friend, the Major?" she inquired, ushering them
into the school-room.

"Joey couldn't come," explained the Angel, mournfully.

"It was to tell you about him, ma'am, I stepped around," replied the
man, gazing admiringly about the bright room, with its pictures, its
growing plants, its tables, and dozens of little red chairs. "It is a
pretty place now, I must say, and it's no wonder the little chap likes
to come here. He's been that worried, and fretting so about the little
one not getting to school, that I promised him I'd march her 'round here
every day if he'd call a halt on his fretting."

"He is sick, then?" Miss Ruth inquired.

"Well, it didn't seem as if it was enough to lay him off duty,"
responded the man, as he regarded Miss Ruth with friendly gaze; "he's a
knowin' little shaver, the Major is, and great on tryin' to help me."

"Are you the friend that he calls Old G. A. R.?" inquired Miss Ruth,
with sudden intuition, as she smiled back into the weather-beaten face.

The old soldier chuckled. "He's told you about that, has he?
'Old G. A. R.!' Great name, ain't it?"

"Why does he call you by it