Virginia interfered. Her experience of life was limited, but she understood the negro. "Don't get out of the car, Ike," she ordered. "Ef dat spindle legged dude git outen dat caah, ah is boun' to bus' his haid wid ma fist," predicted the woman. Virginia feared no blood shed but deemed it desirable to take steps to avoid an argument certain to be loud and long and to add nothing to her dignity as a bystander. She answered Ike's inquiries herself. "The children were out walking, I suppose, and had to cross the street?" This overture slightly mollified the woman but she yet viewed the porcupine with distinct hostility. "Are all of these poor children orphans?" continued Virginia, shaking her head at the pity of it. "Yas'm, dey's all orphants f'om the Lincoln Home, up de street." "And you had them out for their daily walk?" "No, mam, dey gits out onest er week. Ah ain' got no time to take 'em out every day." Virginia looked at the woman very thoughtfully. "Your work makes you very happy, doesn't it?" she asked. "Ah ain' heard o' no kind er wo'k mekin' nobody happy. Ah jes allers was, an' allers is happy. Dat's me," the woman explained. "Why, you are a mother to all of those children." "Yas'm, de onlies' mother dey gwine git, ah guesses." The woman viewed her reassembled charges speculatively. She patted the little cripple at her side. "Po' li'l Willie, he cain't walk ve'y fas', kin you, sweetheart?" "You poor little fellow," sighed Virginia. "Ah bettah tote you, Willie. We gotta move right smart afo' noon an' you ain' ve'y spry on dat crutch." Picking up the lame boy, the woman began to issue instructions for the advance of her forces. Virginia surveyed the manoeuvering orphans comprehensively. "If I could get them all into the car I would take them for a ride," she exclaimed, and then, "They can be crowded in, I believe. May they go?" The woman regarded the girl in great astonishment. "Cou'se dey kin go eff yo'all wants 'em." Her conscience appeared to demand a further warning. "Dey is er powe'ful mouthy and mischievous lot o' rascallions." Ike was disgusted. To be required to act as chauffeur for a crowd of screaming infants of his own race was another wound to that dignity so recently and fearfully lacerated. He submitted protest. "Dis yere caah ain' gwine hol' all dem chillun. It ain' no dray. Dey gwine bus' de springs smack bang offen it." "If the car breaks down you can have them fix it at the garage, Ike. They always have been able to mend it," Virginia told him with great complacency as she proceeded with her plans. "Ef all de chillun stan' close, 'ceptin fo' or five wid li'l Willie an' me on de back seat, dey is plenty room," the orphan's guardian indicated, greatly pleased at the prospect of the ride.