“Very well; I trust you not to go farther than the next counter; and I’ll wait for you here.” “Don’t turn round.” “No, but don’t be too long.” Betty hurried to Mrs. Sanderson, who was looking at jewels at the next counter. “How do you do, Mrs. Sanderson?” she said, speaking politely, but very rapidly. “Do you remember me? I’m Betty McGuire, and I was at your house last year with Mrs. Van Court, and I found Mrs. Kinsey there, and now she lives with me.” Mrs. Sanderson looked at the excited little girl, and at last she remembered her. “Oh, yes,” she said; “the little Irish girl who came into a fortune.” “Yes’m,” said Betty. “That’s me, ma’am. And since then I’ve found my mother, and she’s here with me. But I want to buy her a Christmas present unbeknownst to her, and I thought you’d be willing to help me a bit if I asked you.” “What a strange child!” said Mrs. Sanderson, putting up her lorgnette to look at Betty again. “Yes, I am, ma’am. But will you help me buy the present, and then I’ll introduce my mother; you’ll love her, ma’am, she’s that sweet!” Always when Betty was embarrassed or excited she slipped back into her almost forgotten brogue. And perhaps it was that and the persuasive little voice that touched Mrs. Sanderson’s sympathies, for she said kindly: “Why, certainly, my dear; I’ll help you with pleasure. What do you want to buy?” “I want a small diamond brooch, please, and not too grand a one; my mother doesn’t like things too grand. But a plainish one that she could wear every day, and yet a good one at that.” Mrs. Sanderson smiled, but she seemed to understand, and as the affable salesman showed them various styles, she selected one that seemed to fit accurately Betty’s requirements. “This, I think, is lovely,” she said; “I’m sure your mother would like it.” “I’m sure, too,” said Betty, “and it’s the very one I like best myself.” The purchase was completed, and, with the little box in her hand, Betty took Mrs. Sanderson to the next counter to meet her mother. The ladies seemed too pleased to know each other, and Betty was very happy. Then good-by greetings were exchanged and, as it was luncheon-hour, Betty’s mother marshaled her brood together. “I think we won’t go back to the hotel for luncheon,” she said; “for it’s after one o’clock, and we still have some errands to do. So we’ll go over to the Waldorf and lunch there, which will give you hotel-loving children another glimpse of a New York Christmas crowd.” This plan was carried out, and the young quartet watched with sparkling eyes the throngs of people on Christmas errands bent. “Now to finish our errands, and then home,” said Mrs. McGuire, after luncheon was over. But when they reached the hotel again, about mid-afternoon, Betty didn’t want to go in. “Oh, Mother,” she pleaded, “the streets are so gay, and the people are all going along with bundles and holly wreaths, and it’s all so Christmas-evey, can’t we stay out longer?” Her mother considered.