The boys in the passage stared at one another apprehensively. But their leader was flushed with excitement and wrath. "Dora," he cried, hurrying over to check her going, "do you know what I wish would happen?" She turned accusingly. "Oh, Bobbie! What a sinful thought!" "But I wasn't wishin' _that_!" "Drive it out of your heart!" she counseled, with all the passion of an evangelist. "Drive it out of your heart! Remember: she can't live forever. She ain't immortal. But let her stay her appointed time,"--this last with the bowed head proper to the sentiment, so that two short, tight braids stood ceilingward. The stifled exclamations of the waiting ten brought her head up once more. From the vestibule, resplendent in shining satin and billows of tulle, had appeared a vision. The choir gazed on it in open-mouthed wonder. "Oh, look! The bride! Mm! Ain't it beautiful!" Hattie was equal to the occasion. Dropping all the tulle into place, she walked from bay-window to table and back again, displaying her finery. "Isn't it pretty?" she agreed. "See the veil. And look!" Head on one side, the ever-philosophical Dora watched her. And Hattie, halting, turned once around for the benefit of all observers, but with an inviting smile toward the girl, as to a sister-spirit who would be certain to appreciate. Dora lifted gingham-clad shoulders in a weary shrug. "'Can a maid forget her ornaments?'" she quoted; "'or a bride her attire?'" "Well, I like that!" cried Hattie. Quickly Dora extended a hand with a gesture unmistakably cleric. "Jeremiah," she explained; "--second chapter, and thirty-second verse." But Hattie was not deceived. She rustled forward. "Yes!" she retorted. "And Hattie Balcome, first chapter, and first verse, reads: 'Can a maid forget her _manners_?'" Dora was suddenly all meekness. "If she forgets her duties," she answered, "she shall flee from Mrs. Milo--and the wrath to come!" Whereupon, with a bounce and a giggle, neither of which was in keeping with her spoken fears, she went out, banging the library door. Hattie turned, and here was the choir at her back, engrossed in the beauties of her apparel. She gave the little group a friendly nod and a smile. "So you are the boys," she commented. Bobbie was quick to explain. "We're some of the boys," he said. "There's about fifty more of us, and pretty near fifty girls, too, over in the Orphanage." "But--aren't you all rather big to be left in a basket?" "Oh, not all of us are left in the basket." Bobbie shook his rumpled mop with great finality. "No." It was a smaller boy. "Just the fellers that never had any mothers or fathers." "Like me," piped a chorister from the rear. "And me," put in the tow-headed boy. Hattie looked them over carefully. "Which," she inquired, "is the one that is borrowed from his aunt?" The group stirred. A murmur went from boy to boy. "Mm! Yes! That one! Oh, him!"