a
narrow court near by.

"I'll wait here for you," said Edna, decidedly. "Tell me your name and
I'll tell you mine. I'm Edna Conway."

"I'm Maggie Horn. You wait for me;" and Maggie darted away, leaving
Edna on the corner.

All thoughts of the ribbon, car fare, and all else faded away
before this great new interest. The saving from homelessness and
friendlessness this little street child whom Edna had met in such
an unexpected way seemed to her more important than anything else
in the world, and she eagerly waited Maggie's return.

She did not have to wait long, for very soon Maggie came running back
with a forlorn, miserable, half-starved kitten cuddled up in her arms.

"Here he is!" she cried, exultantly. "I ketched him; he was a-settin'
in the sun. Let's hurry, so Mis' Hawkins won't git me." Edna patted
Mogg's head, the little cat looking at her with scared eyes until he
was reassured by Maggie's coaxing voice.

"Ye see," said Maggie, "he's kinder skeert o' most folks, 'cause
they've tret him so bad. The way I come to git him was when Annie
Flynn an' Han Murphy had him a-swingin' him round by one paw and then
flingin' him off ter see if he'd light on his feet; one of his legs
has been queer ever since. I give 'em my supper fur lettin' me have
him, but I have a time ter keep the boys from gittin' him. Come, let's
go to the place. Where is it?"

Edna came to a halt, looking doubtfully up and down the street. "I
don't just know," she said, "but I'll know it when I see it, for
there's a sign over the door with 'Home for Friendless Children' on
it."

"Ho!" exclaimed Maggie, "we might walk all day in this big place, and
then not get there."

"If I hadn't lost the ten cents I had for car fare we might ride and
tell the conductor to let us off when we got there," said Edna,
naпvely.

Maggie laughed. She was sharper than Edna. "How'd ye know which car to
take?"

"That's so," was the reply; "we'll have to ask a policeman."

"No! no!" cried Maggie. "I'm skeered o' the perlice."

"Then we'll go to that drug store and ask," concluded Edna, wisely;
and with childlike confidence she turned to the shop in question.

"The 'Home of the Friendless,'" said the clerk, with a smile, as he
looked at the queer little pair. "Let me see, I can soon tell you;"
and he turned over the pages of a big book on the counter. "It is on
Pearl Street, No. 342."

"Is it a long way?" asked Edna.

"It's pretty long to walk. You'd better ride."

"O no, we can't; we'll walk. I can, can't you, Maggie?"

"Sure," replied Maggie, forcibly, if not elegantly.

Thanking the clerk who gave them some further instructions the little
girls started out on their journey.

"We must go up this street to Market, and out Market to Pearl," said
Edna; and they trotted along chatting as if the proceeding were not an
unusual one.

It was a long, tiresome walk, but the place was reached at last; and
Edna, standing on tiptoe, rang the bell, which was answered by one of
the little inmates of the house.

Edna smiled as she recognized one of the children she had seen when
she visited the place with her aunt. "O, how do you do?" she said; "I
have brought Maggie to live here with you." And she stepped into the
hall, followed by Maggie, who still held the scraggy little kitten
hugged close.

The child who opened the door stared. "I'll go call Miss Barnes," she
said. The sweet-faced teacher looked a little curiously at the
visitors, but Edna was confident of a welcome. "I've brought Maggie,"
she informed the lady, with a bright smile. "She hasn't any home, nor
any friend but Moggins, and Moggins hasn't any friends but her. So,
you know, that's why they both had to come."

"But, my dear," interrupted Miss Barnes, "we cannot take in little
people without knowing something more about them. The case will have
to go before the Board of Managers, and then if it is all right we'll
be very glad to have this little