The "baker lady" across the street caught my eye, smiled, and sent over a hot bun in a brown paper bag. The "grocery lady" called over in a clear, ringing tone, "Would you be so kind, 'm, as to step inside on your way 'ome and fetch 'Enry a bit of work, 'm? 'Enry 'as the 'ooping cough, 'm, and I don't know 'owever I'm goin' to keep 'im at 'ome another day, 'm, he pines for school so!" I give a nod which means, Certainly! Mrs. Weiss appeared at her window above the grocery with a cloth wound about her head; appeared, and then vanished mysteriously. Very well, Mr. Weiss,--you know what to expect! I gave you fair warning last time, and I shall be as good as my word! Good heavens! Is that--it can't be--yes, it is--a new McDonald baby at the saloon door! And there was such a superfluity of the McDonald clan before! One more wretched little human soul precipitated without a welcome into such a family circle as that! It set me thinking, as I walked slowly back and toiled up the steps. "I suppose most people would call this a hard and monotonous life," I mused. "There is an eternal regularity in the succession of amusing and heart-breaking incidents, but it is not monotonous, for I am too close to all the problems that bother this workaday world,--so close that they touch me on every side. No missionary can come so near to these people. I am so close that I can feel the daily throb of their need, and they can feel the throb of my sympathy. Oh! it is work fit for a saviour of men, and what--what can I do with it?" I sank into my small rocking-chair, and, clasping my arms over my head, bent it upon the table and closed my eyes. The dazzling California sunshine streamed in at the western windows, touched the gold-fish globes with rosy glory, glittered on the brass bird-cages, flung a splendid halo round the meek head of the Madonna above my table, and poured a flood of grateful heat over my shoulders. The clatter of a tin pail outside the door, the uncertain turning of a knob by a hand too small to grasp it: "I forgitted my lunch bucket, 'n had to come back five blocks. Good-by, Miss Kate." (Kiss.) "Good-by, little man; run along." Another step, and a curly little red head pushes itself apologetically through the open door. "You never dave me back my string and buzzer, Miss Kate." "Here it is; leave it at home to-morrow if you can, dear,--will you?" Silence again, this time continued and profound. Mrs. Weiss was evidently not coming to-day to ask me if she should give blow for blow in her next connubial fracas. I was thankful to be spared until the morrow, when I should perhaps have greater strength to attack Mr. Weiss, and see what I could do for Mrs. Pulaski's dropsy, and find a mourning bonnet and shawl for the Gabilondo's funeral and clothes for the new Higgins twins. (Oh, Mrs. Higgins, would not one have sufficed you?)