"Yes; it was a terrible time," said Maggie; "but Mr. Howard is much
better now, too; so we are all very happy."

All this time Mrs. Fleming had sat nodding her head mournfully, as if
she would say, "Don't be encouraged; there is no ground for hope."

"Look! Look at her!" Lily whispered to Bessie. "She's like an insane
Chinese mandarin, rolling round her old head that way."

"Hush!" whispered Bessie, "she'll hear you."

"Don't care if she does," answered Lily.

And now Mrs. Fleming broke forth in just such a lackadaisical,
tearful tone as one would have expected to issue from her lips.

"Oh, Miss Maggie," she whined, "if the dear lady, your ma, 'ad but
listened to me. I told her no good wouldn't come of 'avin' that
number of children to her Christmas tree--twice thirteen; an' I said
if thirteen was hunlucky, twice thirteen was twice worse; an' your ma
just laughed at me; an' the next day came the burnin'."

Bessie looked gravely at her.

"My mother says that is wrong and foolish, too," she said, in an
admonitory tone, "and that thirteen is no worse than any other
number."

"You nor your ma can't gainsay that there come the burnin', Miss,"