“Please excuse me, Miss Tilly,” said the woman, at the same time presenting a flat package in brown paper, “but WILL you give this pattern back to your mother. I am so very much obliged. I don't know how I WOULD git along without your mother, Tilly.” “I'll give the pattern to her,” said Tilly, and she pursued her way. Not very far. A stout woman and a thin young man, with long, wavy, red hair, awaited her on the landing. The woman held a plate of cake which she thrust at Tilly the instant they were on the same level, saying: “The cake was just splendid, tell your mother; it's a lovely recipe, and will you tell her to take this, and see how well I succeeded?” “And--ah--Miss Louder,” said the man, as the stout woman rustled away, “here are some _Banner of Lights;_ I think she'd be interested in some of the articles on the true principles of the inspirational faith----” Tilly placed the bundle of newspapers at the base of her load--“and--and, I wish you'd tell your dear mother that, under the angels, her mustard plaster really saved my life.” “I'll tell her,” said Tilly. She had advanced a little space before a young girl in a bright blue silk gown flung a radiant presence between her and the door. “Oh, Miss Tilly,” she murmured, blushing, “will you just give your mother this?--it's--it's Jim's photograph. You tell her it's ALL right; and SHE was exactly right, and _I_ was wrong. She'll understand.” Tilly, with a look of resignation, accepted a stiff package done up in white tissue paper. She had now only three steps to take: she took two, only two, for--“Miss Tilly, PLEASE!” a voice pealed around the corner, while a flushed and breathless young woman, with a large baby toppling over her lean shoulder, staggered into view. “My!” she panted, “ain't it tiresome lugging a child! I missed the car, of course, coming home from ma's. Oh, say, Tilly, your mother was so good, she said she'd tend Blossom next time I went to the doctor's, and----” “I'll take the baby,” said Tilly. She hoisted the infant on to her own shoulder with her right arm. “Perhaps you'll be so kind's to turn the handle of the door,” said she in a slightly caustic tone, “as I haven't got any hands left. Please shut it, too.”