There seemed to be no one to do the honors. The inmates all looked at each other for a moment hesitatingly, then resumed their various occupations. A young woman, a sickly, livid-faced creature, rose from her place behind the door, and, advancing with a halting step, said to Miss Mackenzie, "Mistress Kennedy's no' in, an' Wishart's oot wi's boords." "I wanted to see him about this child, who was found begging in the streets to-day." Miss Mackenzie looked curiously at the woman, wondering if she could belong in any way to the Wishart family. She was a miserable object, seemingly in the last stage of consumption. "Eh, mem," she answered hurriedly, and drawing nearer, "ye're a guid leddy, I ken, an' tak' t' lassie away oot o' this. The mither's an awfu' wuman: tak' her away wi' ye, or she'll sune be as bad. She'll be like mysel' and the rest o' them here." "I will, I will," Miss Mackenzie said, shocked and startled, recoiling before the spirit-reeking breath of this warning spectre. "I will, I will," she repeated hastily. There was no use remaining any longer. She went out, beckoning to Baubie, who was busy rummaging about a bed at the top of the room. Baubie had bethought her that it was time to take her father his dinner. So she slipped over to that corner of the big kitchen which was allotted to the Wishart family and possessed herself of a piece of a loaf which was hidden away there. As she passed by the fire she profited by the momentary abstraction of the people who were cooking to snap up and make her own a brace of unconsidered trifles in the shape of onions which were lying near them. These, with the piece of bread, she concealed on her person, and then returned to Miss Mackenzie, who was now in the passage. "Baubie," said that lady, "I will send some one here about you. Now, don't let me hear of your singing in the streets or begging again. You will get into trouble if you do." She was descending the stairs as she spoke, and she turned round when she had reached the entry: "You know the police will take you, Baubie." "Yes, mem," answered Baubie, duly impressed. "Well, now, I am going home. Stay: are you hungry?" Without waiting for her answer, Miss Mackenzie entered a tiny shop close by, purchased a mutton-pie and handed it to Baubie Wishart, who received it with wondering reverence. Miss Mackenzie took her way home westward up the Grassmarket. She turned round before leaving it by way of King's Stables, and caught sight of Bauble's frock by the entry of Kennedy's Lodgings--a tiny morsel of color against the shadow of the huge gray houses. She thought of the big kitchen and its occupants, and the face and words of the poor girl, and promised herself that she would send the school-board officer to Kennedy's Lodgings that very night.