her arm and made it sore. "Vaccinated" it, mamma had said, to keep her from being ill sometime. Which had been very puzzling to the little girl, because "sometime" might never come, while the arm-scratching had made her miserable for the present. She now asked, in fresh perplexity:
"Am I 'poor,' mamma?"
"At this moment I feel that you are very poor indeed, my baby," answered the lady.
Josephine glanced about the familiar room, in which nothing seemed changed except her mother's face. That had suddenly grown pale and sad, and even wrinkled, for there was a deep, deep crease between its brows.
"That's funny. Where are my rags?" asked the child.
Mamma smiled; but the doctor laughed outright, and said:
"There is more than one way of being poor, little missy. Come and show me your arm."
Josephine shivered as she obeyed. However, there was nothing to fear now, for the
