dog on the scene scattered the babies, and they fell on her in a weeping phalanx.
"Will you kindly help a little?" she asked after a moment’s waiting, in which any chivalrous gentleman, she thought, should have flung himself into the breach.
"I?" he asked vaguely. "How do you mean? What shall I do?"
She longed to say, "Wake up, and perhaps an idea will come to you;" but she did say, with some spirit, "Almost anything, thank you. Drive the dog away, and help some of the smallest children across the street, please. You can have these two" (indicating the twins smilingly), "or the other ninety-eight—whichever you like."
He obeyed orders, though not in a very alert fashion, but showed a sense of humor in choosing the ninety-eight rather than the two, and Mary left him on the corner with a pleasant word of thanks and a cheery remark.
The next morning he appeared at the garden gate, and asked if he might come in and sit a while. He was made welcome; but it was a busy morning, and he was so silent a visitor that everybody forgot his existence.
