“Oh, what is it?” cried Beth, and a boy beside her explained that the forlorn little girl, whom the policeman held by the arm in a state of collapse, had been accused of snatching a lady’s purse and throwing it into the shrubbery on the mall beyond the bridle path, intending to find it later. But that the lady had felt the child’s touch and had pursued her here, whither the small footpad had run to escape her. “Oh, I’m sure she didn’t!” cried Beth, slipping from Trump’s back to Tim’s horror and pushing her way over to the child. “You didn’t steal the purse, did you?” she cried. The child looked up into the anxious face, scarcely older than her own, but far plumper, rosier and happier. She saw the pity in the sweet blue eyes and her own dark ones filled with tears. “No, miss; oh, no, miss!” cried the little creature. Her thin body shook with sobs and she broke into passionate weeping, interrupted by Italian words. “Why, there’s a purse!” cried Beth. Her eyes had spied a mesh purse dangling on the end of a long silver bar, held by a silver chain around the neck of the child’s accuser. The bar sustained an immense pillow muff. The muff nearly hid the purse, but its gleams chanced to fall under Beth’s eyes as she looked at the excited woman, who was eagerly clamoring for the arrest of the small robber and her immediate deportation to the reformatory. “Is that the purse you lost?” cried Beth. The woman looked down, lifted the purse as if she suspected it of being capable of further tricks, and detached it gingerly from the muff bar. “It was twitched--I suppose the muff bar caught it----” muttered the woman, and stopped, ashamed of her accusation and annoyed by the angry murmurs of the knot of people which had collected. The poor frightened child, who had been in danger of arrest, sank in a pitiful heap of sobbing weakness on the ground, utterly unable to stand when the relief from her danger brought its reaction. “I’ll walk, Tim, and let her ride Trump; it isn’t far,” said Beth. “Get on my pony, dear; he’s very low and very gentle; all you’ll have to do is to sit on him. I can’t ride, but I never have a bit of trouble staying on,” added Beth to the prostrate little victim. “No, Miss Beth dear,” said Tim, inexpressibly touched and pleased. “I wouldn’t dare let you walk home, in your habit, too; they’d sure be blamin’ me. Here, boy; go call a taxi and there’ll be a quarter in it for you,” added Tim to the boy who had explained the situation to Beth. “Be quick with you!” The boy ran off, open-mouthed with admiration for this little lady who had appeared in time to effect such a rescue. Natalie, Alys and Dirk rode back with their groom to find out what had happened to Beth. When they heard the story Alys was half inclined to be annoyed at the oddness of it, but Natalie beamed on unconventional little Beth, and leaned over to pat Trump as a means to squeeze Beth’s hand slyly.