"Say, there's no string tied to that check. Use it as you like. But I want to ask you, Sue,--just curiosity--why were you so all-fired nice to that Crosby girl?" "I'll tell you. But you'll never peep?" "Cross my heart to die!" "She's been so brave, and I'm a coward." "That you're not, by Jingo!" "Let me explain. She couldn't stand conditions that weren't suited to her. At nineteen, she rebelled. I'm not going to say that she didn't also do wrong. But she was so young. While I--I have gone on and on, knowing in my secret heart----" She choked, and could not finish. "I understand, Sue. It's a blamed shame! And you can't stop now----" "I shall go with mother." "Well, if you find that young woman you give her as much of that five thousand as you want to. And if you need more----" "Oh, you dear, old, fat thing!" He put his arm about her. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. "There! There! You're a good girl." "You're a man in a million! How can any woman find you hard to live with!" "Momsey!" Ikey was standing beside them. His hair was disheveled, his face white. "Ikey boy!" The sight of him made her anxious. "You--you go avay?" "We-e-ell,----" "A-a-a-ah!" She was trying to break it gently. But he understood. Two small begrimed hands went up to hide his face. She drew him to her. "But I'll come back, dear! I'll come back! Oh, don't! Don't!" He clung to her wildly then. "Oh, how can I lif midoudt you! Oh, Momsey! Momsey! I nefer sing again!" She led him to a bench. "Now listen!" she begged gently. "Listen! It's only for a little while." He lifted his face. "Yes?" "Yes, dear." That comforted. "Und also," he observed philosophically, "de olt lady, she goes mit." "Ikey!" Sue sat back, displeased. "Oh, scuses! Scuses!" "She's my mother." "You--you _sure_?" "Why, Ikey!" she cried, astonished. "Alvays I--I like to t'ink de oder t'ing." "What other thing?" "Dat you vas found in de basket." Balcome laughed, and Sue laughed with him. Even Ikey, guessing that he had inadvertently been more than usually witty, allowed a smile to come into those wet eyes. "There!" cried Sue, putting both arms about him. "Momsey forgives." "T'ank you. Und now I like to question--you don't go avay mit de preacher?" "No! No!" Sue blushed like a girl. "Den you don't marry mit him." "N-n-n-n-no!" "You feel better, don't you, old man?" inquired Balcome. "Yes.--If I vas growed up, I vould marry mit her myself." "Now little flattering chorister," said Sue, "there's something Momsey wants you to do. She'll have to leave here very soon. And before she goes she wants to hear that splendid voice again. So you go to the choirmaster, and ask him if he'll get all the boys together for Miss Susan, and have them sing something--something full of happiness, and hope." "Momsey, can it be 'O Mutter Dear, Jerusalem?'" "Do you like that best?"