"All right; never mind the apron; let Jimmy walk on with me, and I will give him one at school." Jimmy trots proudly at my side, munching a bit of baker's pie and carrying my basket. I drop into Mrs. Powers' suite of apartments in Rosalie Alley, and find Lafayette Powers still in bed. His twelve-year-old sister and guardian, Hildegarde, has over-slept, as usual, and breakfast is not in sight. Mrs. Powers goes to a dingy office up town at eight o'clock, her present mission in life being the healing of the nations by means of mental science. It is her fourth vocation in two years, the previous ones being tissue-paper flowers, lustre painting, and the agency for a high-class stocking supporter. I scold Hildegarde roundly, and she scrambles sleepily about the room to find a note that Mrs. Powers has left for me. I rejoin my court in the street, and open the letter with anticipation. Miss Kate. Dear Maddam.--You complane of Lafayette's never getting to school till eleven o'clock. It is not my affare as Hildegarde has _full charge_ of him and I _never_ intefear, but I would sujjest that if you _beleeve_ in him he will do better. Your unbeleef sapps his _will powers_. you have only reprooved him for being late. why not incurrage him say by _paying_ him 5 cents a morning for a wile to get amung his little maits on the stroak of nine? "declare for good and good will work for you" is one of our sayings. I have not time to treet Lafayette myself my busness being so engroassing but if you would take a few minites each night and _deny Fear along the 5 avanues_ you could heel him. Say _there is no Time in the infinnit_ over and over before you go to sleep. This will lift fear off of Lafayette, fear of being late and he will get there in time. Yours for Good, MRS. POWERS, _Mental Heeler_. Oh, what a naughty, ignorant, amusing, hypocritical, pathetic world it is! I tuck the note in my pocket to brighten the day for Helen, and we pass on. As we progress we gather into our train Levi, Jacob, David, Moses, Elias, and the other prophets and patriarchs who belong to our band. We hasten the steps of the infant Garibaldi, who is devouring refuse fruit from his mother's store, and stop finally to pluck a small Dennis Kearney from the coal-hod, where he has been put for safe-keeping. The day has really begun, and with its first service the hands grow willing and the heart is filled with sunshine. As the boys at my side prattle together of the "percession" and the "sojers" they saw yesterday, I wish longingly that I could be transported with my tiny hosts to the sunny, quiet country on this clear, lovely morning. [Illustration: "THE BOYS AT MY SIDE PRATTLE TOGETHER."]