"There, Miss Jane!" crowed Genevieve, triumphantly. "You see! Please, now," she begged. Miss Jane still frowned--but a look of almost reluctant relief came to her eyes. "Very well," she conceded slowly. "Perhaps, my dear, I will let you go for me, then." "Oh, thank you, Miss Jane--besides, there are several things I want for myself." "Very well, dear. I have three things that must be changed, and there are two that I want you to buy. It seems so absurd--when I began last January--that there should be anything to be done to-day; but, unfortunately, some of my plans had to be changed at the last moment. You may get ready at once after breakfast, please, then come to my room. I'll have the list all made out for you. You'll have to bring everything home, of course, but they are not very heavy, and you can carry them all in the large hand bag, I think. You'd better take the nine-four train." * * * * * It was not quite half-past ten when Genevieve arrived in the great Boston station that morning. She glanced importantly at her pretty little watch, took a firmer hold on the large leather bag she carried, and stepped briskly off toward her car. It was delightful--this independent feeling of freedom. Even to pay her fare and to signal the conductor to stop were Events. Shopping, all by herself, was even more delightful; so she dallied over every purchase and every exchange as long as she could--and it was not hard to dally, with the crowds, the long waits, and the delays for change. At one o'clock, when in state she ate her luncheon at a pretty white table in a large department-store dining-room, she had not half finished her task. She was so glad there was still so much to do! But at four o'clock, when she did finish, she looked at her watch with faintly troubled eyes. She had not, indeed, realized that it was quite so late. She remembered, too, suddenly, for the first time, that Miss Chick had told her to come back early. She wondered--could she catch the four-twenty train? Stores and sidewalks were a mass of surging, thronging humanity now, and progress was slow and uncertain. When, at ten minutes past four, she had not succeeded even in reaching her car for the station, she gave up the four-twenty train. Well, there was one at five-fifteen, she comforted herself. She could surely get that. The streets were darkening fast, and lights were beginning to flash here and there, finding a brilliant response in tinsel stars and crystal pendants. With the Christmas red and green, and the thronging crowds, it made a pretty sight; and Genevieve stopped more than once just to look about her with a deep breath of delight. It was at such a time that she saw the small ragged boy, and the still smaller, still more ragged girl wistfully gazing into the fairyland of a toyshop window.