The pledge was brought out, and amid vociferous applause the names of Marie Jean Hennesy and Francis Wilde Lindsay were added to the roll. "The feast of reason and the flow of soul has come to an end," announced Miss Billy, as she collected the written reports, and laid them in a neat pile on the grass. "But our mundane bodies are yet to be fed. On yonder porch there sits a jug, and in the jug there is some beer--only root, however. Launcelot, if I pour the drink which cheers but not inebriates, will you pass the cakes?" "Yes-um," replied the boy with alacrity. Marie Jean's face was expressive of a little disappointment as Francis rose from the grass and followed Miss Billy and Launcelot to the porch. "I wonder if I can help her," she said to Ginevra. Ginevra's unchildish eyes turned upon the speaker. "She don't need no help," she said slowly. "Mr. Francis needn't 'a' gone. He just went 'cause he likes her company-ship." The children had finished their root beer, and noisily rounded the corner of the house; and Marie Jean had reluctantly departed with repeated assurances of her aid in the future, when Miss Billy and Francis sat down in the deserted yard. "It has been a great success," he said. "I cannot thank you enough for permitting me to enjoy the morning with you. It's a fine work, Miss Lee." The girl looked up brightly. "It was interesting," she admitted. "The little ones have worked so faithfully and well. I am proud of them all. But there is so much yet to accomplish. I think Cherry Street has been effectually aroused, and we can depend on the children to keep it awake. But it will take so much money to do what we wish, and our hands are practically empty." Francis was silent for a few moments. "Are there no ways of raising money?" he said finally. "Seems to me there's energy enough in this club to earn some." "We're going to do that," said Miss Billy. "We are planning a lawn fête now. The mothers are all going to help us, and the children have been working like Trojans. It will be held in our yard, and we shall demand your attendance, and maybe your services. Everybody on the street will be roped in to help. Of course we will raise some money in this way, but there are so many things to spend it for. It won't go half way round." Francis pondered. "Why don't you try for the Hanson prize?" he asked finally. "What _is_ the Hanson prize?" "Why, haven't you heard? The papers are full of it to-day. Peter Hanson, the New York florist, offers a prize of one hundred dollars to be voted to improvements on any city street which makes the greatest change for the better during this year. The money is to be awarded about December 25, and the judges are to decide from photographs,--the 'before and after taking' style, you know." Miss Billy's eyes sparkled. "I wish we could," she exclaimed.