"I wish to the Lord we COULD do something for Lizzie's kids," her
brother observed suddenly. "I suppose it would kill you to have 'em
up here?"

"Kill me!" Miss Anne echoed with painful eagerness, and with a
sudden tremble of her thin, long hand. "I don't know why it should;
there never were better behaved children born. I don't like Lizzie's
husband, and never shall;" she rushed on, "but seeing those children
up at the Hall to-day made me think of Betty, and Hope, and Davy,
cooped up down there in town. They'd love the Flower Festival, and I
could take them up to the Hall, and Nanny would be wild with joy to
have Lizzie's children here; she'd bake cookies and gingerbread--" A
flush had come into her faded, cool cheek. "Wouldn't they be in your
way? You really wouldn't mind--you won't change your mind about it,
Walt?" she said timidly.

"Change my mind! Why, I'll love to have them running round here," he
answered warmly. "Write Lizzie to-night, and tell her I've got to go
down Tuesday, and I'll bring 'em up,"

"I'll tell her that just the things they have will be quite good
enough," said Miss Pratt. "The Burgoyne children just wear play-
ginghams--I'll get them anything else they need!"

"It won't interfere with your club work, Anne?"

"Not in the least!" She was sure of that, "And anyway," she went on
decidedly, "I'm not going to the club so much this summer. Mary
Brown and I went yesterday, and there was--well, I suppose it was a