At half-past nine o'clock the driver of the big carry-all set five squirming children on to their feet before the front door at "Meadowbrook," and rang the bell. "Here you are," he called gayly, as Hannah opened the door. "I've washed my hands of 'em--now they're yours!" And he drove briskly out of the yard. Hannah neither moved nor spoke. She simply stared. "Here's a note," began Tilly, advancing shyly, "for Mis' Wentworth." Mechanically Hannah took the note and, scarcely realizing what she was doing, threw open the door of the parlor--that parlor which was sacred to funerals, weddings, and the minister's calls. The children filed in slowly and deposited themselves with some skill upon the slippery haircloth chairs and sofa. Hannah, still dazed, went upstairs to her mistress. "From the asylum, ma'am," she said faintly, holding out the note. Mrs. Wentworth's eyes shone. "Oh, the children! Where are they, Hannah?" "In the parlor, ma'am." "The parlor? Why, Hannah, the parlor is no place for those two children!" Mrs. Wentworth started toward the door. Hannah coughed and uptilted her chin. "They ain't two, ma'am. There's as much as half a dozen of 'em." "What!" "There is, ma'am." "Why, Hannah, what--" The lady tore open the note with shaking fingers, and read: _My dear Madam_: You very generously asked for ten children, but I hope you will pardon me for sending only five. That is all we have with us now, owing to several recent adoptions from our ranks--you know we are never very large, being only a branch of the Hollingsworth Asylum. The children were so crazy, though, at the idea of a trip to the country, that I am sure each child will have fun enough--and make noise enough, also, I fear--for two, so in the end you may think you've got your ten children, after all. You must be fond of children to be willing to give so many a two-weeks' vacation, but you don't know what a lot of good you are doing. If you could have seen the children when I read them your note, you would have been well repaid for all your trouble. I wish there were more like you in the world. Yours respectfully, AMANDA HIGGINS. "Hannah," faltered Mrs. Wentworth, dropping into her chair, "they did n't read my note right. They--they've actually sent us the whole asylum!" "Well, it looks like it--downstairs," returned Hannah grimly. "Sure enough, they _are_ downstairs, and I must go to them," murmured Mrs. Wentworth, rising irresolutely to her feet. "I--I 'll go down. I'll have to send all but two home, of course," she finished, as she left the room. Downstairs she confronted five pairs of eyes shining out at her from the gloom. "Good-morning, children," she began, trying to steady her voice. "There is--er--I--well--" She stopped helplessly, and a small girl slid to the floor from her perch on the sofa and looked longingly toward the hall. "Please, ma'am, there's a kitty out there; may I get it?" she asked timidly.