"You poor little lamb," she sputtered, upon returning to the kitchen, "I'd run away if I were you." "Where would I run to?" questioned Marian. "Anywhere'd be better than here," the girl replied, "and that woman calls herself a Christian!" "She's a awful cross Christian," Marian admitted in a whisper, brushing away the tears that came when she heard the peals of laughter from the dining-room. "I wouldn't cry if I were you," advised the girl. "You'll only spoil your pretty eyes and it will do them good to see you cry, you poor baby. The idea of having a party and making you stay out here!" "It's a Club," corrected Marian, "I've heard 'em talking about it. Dorothy Avery and Ruth Higgins belong. I've tried so hard to be good so I could be in it. They are going to sew presents for poor children and give them toys and everything they don't want their own selves, and then when Christmas day comes they're going to have a sleigh ride and take the things to the poor children. If I was good like Ella, I could be in it. I used to be good, Lala, truly, I did." "There, there, don't cry," begged Lala. "Look a-here! did you ever see anybody dance the lame man's jig?" Marian shook her head, whereupon Lala performed the act to the music of a mournful tune she hummed, while Marian laughed until the Club was forgotten. There was plenty of fun in the kitchen after that. In the midst of the hilarity Ella appeared to tell Marian it was her bedtime. "Are you ever afraid, Lala, when you wake up all alone in the night?" asked Marian as she started up the back stairs. "I never wake up," said Lala. "Do you, Marian?" "Yes, and I'm lonesome without all the little girls. Sometimes I'm so frightened I pretty nearly die when I'm all alone and it's dark." "Little girls," echoed Lala, "what little girls? Where did you live before you came here?" "When I was good I lived in a big city, Lala." "Tell me about it," the girl insisted. "If you'll promise you won't ever tell, I will," declared Marian. "I'll have to whisper it. I lived in a beautiful orphan's home, Lala." "Oh!" exclaimed Lala. "Oh, you poor baby." "Of course it's dreadful," Marian hastened to say, "but I couldn't help it, Lala, truly I couldn't; they took me there when I was a baby and it was a lovely place, only, it was a Home." "Do you know anything about your father and mother?" "Oh, I guess they're dead--my mother is anyway, and I'm 'fraid about my father." "What do you mean?" "Well, Lala, Aunt Amelia always says, what can you expect when you think what my father was. I guess may be he was a stealer because Aunt Amelia won't stop talking about the cucumbers and what could you expect. Maybe he is in prison." "No, your father is not in prison, Marion Lee!" Lala exclaimed. "Listen. It was your father I heard them talking about with some callers the other day. I'm sure of it now, because they said the man was a great deal younger than your uncle----"