"There is Virginia Dale and those colored kids with whom she was making a spectacle of herself in the minstrel parade," sneered an excited girl. "If she brings them in here, I'll leave and never come back." "Oh, don't worry," a man of the world, of sixteen, calmed her. "Old Viv won't stand for any foolishness. You watch him." "Virginia Dale has lived so long in that big house with only colored people that she likes them for friends," declared another girl contemptuously. "Too good to associate with any of the young people of this town, she parades around like that. I think it is disgusting myself and I would tell her so, for very little." These and similar remarks filled the ears of the perplexed proprietor. He decided that whatever was done in this instance had better be done, contrary to his usual practice, beyond the hearing of the elect. He rushed out to the waiting car. A smile was upon his face but it was not his usual one of hearty welcome. It spoke of hidden pain and anxiety. "How do you do, Mr. Vivian," Virginia courteously greeted the dispenser of toothsome delicacies. "I want you to meet these little people from the Lincoln Home." He cast a glance into the nest of the blackbirds. It lacked that interest with which new friends should be greeted. He felt the curious glances of the chosen, impinging against his back. "They are hungry, Mr. Vivian. We have had a long ride and the children missed their lunch watching the parade. Each of us wants the nicest ice cream cone you can make. Seventeen, please." "Cones!" Light dawned in Mr. Vivian's darkness. "Bring them out, please?" Virginia begged. "Out?" The clouds which had veiled the true Mr. Vivian rolled aside. Came sunshine and gladsome welcome. In a moment the confectioner was behind his counter urging his assistants to diligence. In joyous relief, he shouted, "Make 'em big, boys. Make 'em big!" Then, disregarding the feelings of the staring elect, Mr. Vivian hastened forth, bearing a box of cones. In a moment, with his kindest smile, encouraged by Virginia, he delivered with his own hand, to each infant, one of his products. "The poor things. I don't suppose orphans get ice cream cones very often, do they?" Virginia asked the woman. "Some ain' nevah had none afo', Ah bets. Has you, chillun? Who had one?" Six worldly wise infants voted in the affirmative. Mr. Vivian was stirred deeply by this information. That human beings were permitted to arrive at such an age without experience of cones struck him as an economic mistake. "It's a shame," he cried. "They eat them as though they were used to them," laughed Virginia. "Yes," he agreed, as he watched the mouths of the blackbirds wag in solemn unison. Another thought struck him. "You have had these orphans out for a ride all morning, Miss Dale?" She nodded. "We've had a grand time, too. Haven't we, children?" Mouths were too full for utterance but there was a unanimous bobbing of heads.