to go."

Edna's heart fluttered at this undertaking. She had never been
downtown alone, and she was much afraid that she could not find the
way, but she decided to do the best she could, especially as she knew
her aunt would consider any objection in the light of disobedience.

It was all very easy to get in the car, pay her fare, and ask the
conductor to let her out at such a street; so she managed very easily
to reach the shop and get the ribbon; but to take the car home she was
obliged to cross the street, and here came trouble, for there were
horses dashing up and down, trolley cars coming this way and that,
and, altogether, it was a very confusing point. Therefore Edna stood a
long time on the curb before she dared to venture across, but finally
she summoned up courage when the way seemed tolerably clear, and she
managed to reach the opposite side; but looking back at a trolley car
which seemed close at hand she hurried faster than her stout little
legs could be relied upon to take her, and down she went in the mud of
the gutter. She picked herself up in an agony of shame, lest she
should be laughed at, and ran on as fast as she could up the street,
but, unfortunately, in the wrong direction; for when she stood still
and looked about her there were no blue cars to be seen, and it all
looked strange.

She felt in her pocket for her parcel; it was safe, but her car fare
was gone, and she stood a pitiful, mud-besmeared little object. Then
the big tears began to come as she walked along very fast. "O dear,
I'm lost!" she said to herself, "and I'll have to walk home, and Aunt
Elizabeth is in a hurry, and she'll scold me! O dear! O dear! I want
my own home, I do, I do." She began then to run along very fast again,
to hide her tears from passers-by, and presently she came bump up
against another little girl who had also been running.

The two children coming to such an abrupt standstill stared at each
other. Edna saw a poor, ragged, dirty, pale-faced child with wild
locks; and the little girl saw Edna with the tears still coursing down
her cheeks, her pretty coat and frock stained with mud, and her hat
knocked very much to one side.

It was the ragged girl who smiled first.

"I 'most knocked ye down, didn't I?" she said. "Where was ye going so
fast?"

"I am going home," replied Edna, "only I don't know how to get there."

"Yer lucky."

Edna stared. "I think I'm very unlucky. What makes you say that?"

"Yer lucky ter have any home ter go ter. I ain't. Yer live somewhere,
if ye don't know where it is, an' I don't live nowhere, if I know
where that is."

Edna smiled at this. "Why," she said, "where are your father and
mother?"

"I ain't got none. Mis' Ryan she bound me out to Mis' Hawkins, an' I
ain't goin' to stay there, I ain't. She starves me an' beats me;" and
the child's voice shrilled out again, "I ain't goin' ter stay, I
ain't."

"And haven't you any grandparents, or aunts or uncles?"

The child shook her head.

"Nor great-aunts? I think maybe you have a great-aunt like my Aunt
Elizabeth," continued Edna.

But another shake of the head was the reply.

"And you haven't any friends. O, do say you haven't any friends,"
urged Edna, a pleased look coming into her face. "If you just say you
haven't any friends I'll know just what to do."

"There's Moggins," said the child.

"Who is Moggins?" Edna asked, her face falling.

"My cat. Mis' Hawkins won't let me let him indoors; but he knows me
an' comes when I call him."

"O, well," replied Edna, "of course a cat is a friend, but I don't
believe he'll count. Anyhow, we'll take him, too."

"Where?" asked the girl, in astonishment.

"Why, to the Home of the Friendless, of course; aren't you friendless,
and you haven't any home. It's just the place made for you;" and Edna
smiled, well pleased. "Can you get Moggins? Is he far away?"

"Down there," and the child jerked her head in the direction of