So little in those words with which to conjure up a mother! She would be forty now, if—if she were still alive! Suddenly all her twelve years of orphanhood, of longing for a mother, even for a mother who would desert her child and go away without a word, rushed over Sally like an avalanche of bruising stones. Every hurt she had sustained during all those twelve motherless years throbbed with fresh violence; drew hard tears that dripped upon the lumpy cotton pillow beneath her tossing head. When the paroxysm of weeping had somewhat subsided she crept out of her cot and knelt beside it and prayed. Then she crept back into bed, unconscious that the midget was still awake and had seen her dimly in the darkness. Strangely free of her burdens, Sally lay for a long time before sleep claimed her, trying to remember all the instructions about crystal-gazing that Mrs. Bybee had heaped upon her. And in her childish conscience there was no twinge or remorse that she was to go on the next day, deceiving the public, as “Princess Lalla, favorite crystal-gazer of the Sultan of Turkey.” The next morning—the carnival’s second and last day in Stanton—Sally overslept. She did not awaken until a tiny hand tugged impatiently at her hair. Her dark blue eyes flew wide in startled surprise, then recognition of her surroundings and of “Pitty Sing,” the midget, dawned in them slowly. “You looked so pretty asleep that I hated to awaken you,” the midget told her. “But it’s getting late, and I want my breakfast. I’m dressed.” The little woman wore a comically mature-looking dress of blue linen, made doll-size, by a pattern which would have suited a woman of forty. Sally impulsively took the tiny face between her hands and laid her lips for an instant against the softly wrinkled cheek. Then she sprang out of bed, careful not to “joggle” the midget, who had been so emphatic about her distaste for being joggled. “There’s a bucket of water and a tin basin,” Miss Tanner told her brusquely, to hide the pleasure which Sally’s caress had given her. “All the other girls have gone to the cook tent, so you can dress in peace.” “I didn’t thank you properly last night for taking my part against Nita,” Sally said shyly, as she hastily drew on her stockings. “But I do thank you, Betty, with all my heart. I was so frightened—for David—”