Debby's tone was pathetic in the extreme. Her expression and her words went straight to Miss Babbs's heart, and brought the tears to her eyes. "Oh, my dear children, you don't say so! Oh, I _am_ glad! Whoever'd have thought it. Come right in--not that I believe I've a flag left, unless 'tis Coronation ones. Come in and shut the door, Master Tom. We don't want all Moor End dropping in, before I'm dressed for the day, and my place tidy. No, never mind the shutters, Master Tom, we'll leave them up for a bit. I'll carry the box into the parlour for you, and you can turn it out for yourselves, while I light my fire, or I shall be I don't know where all day." Tom and Debby, expressing their thanks as they went, groped their way delightedly past barrels of potatoes, soap-boxes, and goods of many kinds. The sacks looked quite alarming in the dimness, the barrels as though they might have held all manner of mysterious dangers. The air was heavy with the mingled smell of onions, bacon, scented soap, leather, and groceries. "Oh, I _must_ keep a shop when I grow up," whispered Debby. "Miss Babbs, when you retire will you sell your business to me? I've got three pounds in the bank already, and I'll save every penny,"--but her plans came to an end in a hamper, into which she plunged head first. "Babbs isn't going to retire," grunted Tom, as he dragged his sister out. "Don't talk rubbish, Deb." Miss Babbs staggered out into the light parlour with a large wooden box, and dumped it down on the table before her customers. "There's bandana handkerchiefs on top," she panted, "but there may be a flag or so under." "The quickest way will be to turn the box upside down, and begin at the bottom," suggested Tom, as soon as Miss Babbs had retired to her kitchen-- and suited the action to the word. "Here's one!" cried Debby eagerly, and unfolded a flag with 'God Save our King and Queen' on it, and portraits of their Majesties. "And here's one of 'God Bless our Sunday School,'" cried Tom. "Oh, look, there are three of them. If we nail them upside down they will look all right. They'll be flags, anyhow." "It's an insult to hang a flag upside down," corrected Debby, severely. "All right, I don't mind. Here's a Union Jack, that's jolly, though they are rather a worry to hang. I never can remember which way they should go. Not that anyone in Moor End would know if they were right way up or not." "Then they ought to be ashamed of themselves," retorted Debby, "and it's time they were taught." She had lately been reading an article on the subject and her opinions were very strong with regard to the ignorance shown by so many. "One Coronation, one Union Jack," she counted, "three Sunday School--that's five altogether. We ought to have one more to make the money up to sixpence. I'll have a red and white handkerchief, it will come in afterwards for Jobey for Christmas."