of the top-floor flats. She was as faded as her calico dress. Her arms were lean and her hands wrinkled, and all the flesh about her finger nails was swollen and of a livid hue, from being so much in hot water.
Indeed, two steaming tubs stood in the kitchen into which the girls of Central High were ushered. A big wash was evidently under way, and Mrs. Plornish wiped her arms and hands from the suds, as she invited the girls in, staring in amazement at one and another meanwhile.
"Your little Maggie met with an accident, Mrs. Plornish," said Laura, pleasantly, putting the packages she had carried upon the table. "And so we helped her home with her groceries."
"And Mr. Vandergriff says never mind the bottle of milk that was spilled," explained Jess, setting the second bottle on the table.
"You come from Mr. Vandergriff?" asked the woman, her faded cheek coloring a trifle.
Laura explained more fully. Mrs. Plornish seemed to have had her motherly instincts pretty well quenched by time and poverty.
"Yes'm. I expect Maggie'll git runned over and killed some day on that there Market Street," she complained. "But I ain't got no-
