“I am sorry you had such a hot morning for your walk. I hope you did not have far to come.” “We--we don’t live here,” stammered Dulcie, her cheeks growing suddenly very hot. “We came in the train, and walked up from the station.” “You came on the train?” Mrs. Thorne repeated, incredulously. “You don’t mean by yourselves?” “Oh, yes,” said Dulcie. “You see, we had to. We’re--we’re looking for a situation.” Mrs. Thorne gazed in growing bewilderment from one serious little face to the other. “A situation,” she gasped. “Why, you are only children.” “I’m twelve,” said Dulcie, rather tremulously, “and Dais--I mean Margaret, is eleven. Of course we wouldn’t expect to be paid very much at first.” “But I don’t understand. Why do you want to work at all? You are not poor children.” That was just what Barbara had said, and Dulcie felt her heart sink. How could they ever explain the situation without telling the whole story? “We’ve gone away, because we don’t want to be burdens to our stepmother,” put in Daisy, coming to her sister’s relief. A shadow crossed Mrs. Thorne’s sweet face, and as if instinctively, she slipped an arm round Barbara, who was standing by her side. “Don’t you love your stepmother?” she asked, gently. “Isn’t she kind to you?” “We’ve never seen her,” Daisy explained. “She’s only coming to-day. Papa married her in California, and we never knew anything about it till yesterday. We are sure she won’t want us, and we are very tired of being burdens to people, so we came away to earn our own livings.” Daisy paused abruptly, and two big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. Mrs. Thorne was really wonderful. She seemed to understand the whole situation at once, without asking another question. “You poor little chicks,” she said, and her voice was so kind that, instead of checking Daisy’s tears, it caused her to cry all the more. And then somehow, they were all on the sofa together, and Mrs. Thorne had one arm round Daisy, and the other round Dulcie--who had also begun to cry--and Barbara was looking on, with tears of sympathy in her own eyes. “We love our papa very much indeed,” sobbed Dulcie, “but we think perhaps he will be glad to have us go away, on account of the stepmother, you know. I promised Mamma before she died that I would always take care of the others, and stepmothers are so very cruel sometimes.” “There, there, dear,” soothed Mrs. Thorne, “don’t try to talk any more till you feel better. I think I understand everything. You have made a foolish mistake, but it’s going to be all right.”