Miss Brand, much distressed at the news of Ermen's arrest, and at his son's nonappearance, had told the story to some of the visitors, and a great deal of interest and sympathy were excited in his favour. Father Francis had just uncovered the prizes. The crowd of children pushed and scrambled to get a look at the good things; but at a word from their lady chief even the most turbulent grew quiet. Some lovely countenances were discernible among the little gathering. Under ordinary circumstances they would hardly have been noticed for the dirt and grime which covered them; but this was a gala day, and, thanks to Miss Brand's kind care, each child's face and hands had been washed, and their white collars lent an air of cleanliness even to the most ragged and worn dress. Suddenly there was a stir in the room. A boy was seen advancing through the crowd holding a magnificent geranium in his arms. Father Francis welcomed George in a quiet, kindly way. His plant was placed upon the platform for inspection, and it was universally agreed that had it been in time for the competition George would have taken the first prize. Grieved that her little friend should be too late, Miss Brand hastily unfastened a silver compass from her watch chain and gave it to Lord Eltonville, to whom she said a few private words. The atmosphere was stifling, and George was faint for want of food. Many of the children's mothers were present holding infants in their arms. Their worn, anxious faces beamed with delight as Lord Eltonville rose to distribute the prizes. "George Ermen, in consideration of your misfortune, Miss Brand wishes to overlook the fact that your geranium was not entered for the competition this morning. I have, therefore, the great pleasure of awarding you a special extra prize, the presentation of which shall have precedence in our day's business." George walked to the platform and received the pretty silver compass, a flush of pride and delight colouring his pale cheek. "Let me advise you to cultivate smilax round your window," added his lordship, doubtless thinking of his magnificent greenhouses, and little realising the misery and squalor in which the waifs of the great city dwelt. "Smilax!" murmured George wonderingly. "Yes, it is a beautiful creeper, and ought to grow nicely round your window and make you quite a little bower." The excitement of the children could no longer be curbed. Miss Brand was heartily glad when the distribution was over, and she could see the poor waifs happy with their little presents. It would be difficult to describe their joy. Many of their number had never possessed anything before. To have a book, a doll, a top, a pencil--something that was their very own--seemed like a delightful dream.