What had she come to us for? Money, old clothes, help of some kind?

No, indeed. She came to see if we would take her grand-daughter and her
own daughter, both about twelve years old, into our school. She had
never been able to make them fit to go to any school, so they could not
even read, but she would do her very best, if we would take them now. I
wish Mr. Hand could have seen her shining face and tearful eyes, when we
told her of the kind friend who had provided so grandly for just such
cases as these.

A patter of small feet, a hasty rap at the door.

"Please ma'am, send little sister some medicine."

"What ails sister?"

The little fellow looked puzzled for a moment, then confidently
answered, "Her stomach has settled on her bowels!"

It is a perplexing diagnosis, but a few skillful questions draw out the
fact that she has a bad cold, and some chamomilla is sent at a venture.
Word comes back the next day that "Sister is well: that medicine did her
_all_ the good."

Next comes, one after another, a perfect rush of small boys and big
girls, with now and then a man or woman for variety, on various errands.
"Please ma'am, give me a settin' of eggs. Our old hen wants to set, and
we haint got no eggs." The great brown eyes grow round with astonishment
when we tell them that the hens are A.M.A. hens now, and not ours, and