"Those years--afterward, were never very clear to me," went on Margaret, unsteadily. "It was all so terrible--so lonely. I know I begged to go back--to the Alley; and I talked of you and the others constantly. But they kept everything from me. They never spoke of those years in New York, and they surrounded me with all sorts of beautiful, interesting things, and did everything in the world to make me happy. In time they succeeded--in a way. But I think I never quite forgot. There was always something--somewhere--behind things; yet after a while it seemed like a dream, or like a life that some one else had lived." Margaret had almost forgotten Patty's presence. Her eyes were on the broken-hinged gate out the window, and her voice was so low as to be almost inaudible. It was a cry from little Maggie that roused her, and together with Patty she sprang toward the bed. "My--lucky--stars!" murmured the child, a little later, in dim recollection as she gazed into the visitor's face. "You precious baby! And it shall be 'lucky stars'--you'll see!" cried Margaret. CHAPTER XXV It was, indeed, "lucky stars," as little Maggie soon found out. Others found it out, too; but to some of these it was not "lucky" stars. At the dinner table on that first night after the visit to Patty's house, Margaret threw the family into no little consternation by abruptly asking: "How do you go to work to get men and things to put houses into livable shape?... I don't suppose I did word it in a very businesslike manner," she added laughingly, in response to Frank Spencer's amazed ejaculation. "But what--perhaps I don't quite understand," he murmured. "No, of course you don't," replied Margaret; "and no wonder. I'll explain. You see I've found another of my friends. It's the little girl, Patty, with whom I lived three years in New York. She's down in one of the mill cottages, and it leaks and is in bad shape generally. I want to fix it up." There was a dazed silence; then Frank Spencer recovered his wits and his voice. "By all means," he rejoined hastily. "It shall be attended to at once. Just give me your directions and I will send the men around there right away." "Thank you; then I'll meet them there and tell them just what I want done." Frank Spencer moistened his lips, which had grown unaccountably dry. "But, my dear Margaret," he remonstrated, "surely it isn't necessary that you yourself should be subjected to such annoyance. I can attend to all that is necessary." "Oh, but I don't mind a bit," returned Margaret, brightly. "I _want_ to do it. It's for Patty, you know." And Frank Spencer could only fall back in his chair with an uneasy glance at his sister.