ing curls that, snared at the neck by a wide ribbon, hung half way down her back.
Attended eagerly by this childish court, the babble of their voices rising about her, the girl mounted the steps, stood a moment in confusion before the locked and barred door, then looked about her helplessly, almost as the children had done.
"This is my cue," John declared with decision, rising from his seat and crossing to the chapel.
"My name's Hampstead," he began, taking off his hat to the girl. "I belong to the First Church, Los Angeles."
"How do you do, Brother Hampstead," she responded, in a voice that expressed instant confidence, while her large eyes, blue as the sky, lighted with pleasure and relief. "I am Helen Plummer, teacher of the infant class."
"You seem to be embarrassed," John proceeded.
"Whatever shall I do?" confessed the young lady, looking at the barred door, at her charges about her, and at John.
John laid his hand upon the plank at the end where it projected beyond the edge of the little, coop-like vestibule, and gave it a tentative pull. It did not spring much. Burbeck's nails had been long, and he had driven them deep. But John was strong. He swung his weight upon the end of the plank and it gave a little. He swung harder, and it yielded more. Presently he heard a squeaking, protesting sound from the straining nails, and increased his efforts till the veins knotted on his forehead.
"Bet y' he can't," speculated an urchin whose chubby toes were frankly barefoot and energetically digging into the sod of the lawn.
"Bet yuh he will," instantly countered another, shifting his gum.
"Oh, I do hope you can!" sighed the fairy thing
