Boys and girls with their arms full of books, were hurrying down the steps, and coming into the street. Two quite big boys came behind us, and Mrs. Wood turned around and spoke to them, and asked if they were going to the Band of Mercy.
"Oh, yes, ma'am," said the younger one. "I've got a recitation, don't you remember?"
"Yes, yes, excuse me for forgetting," said Mrs. Wood, with her jolly laugh. "And here are Dolly, and Jennie, and Martha," she went on, as some little girls came running out of a house that we were passing.
The little girls joined us, and looked so hard at my head, and stump of a tail, and my fine collar, that I felt quite shy, and walked with my head against Miss Laura's dress.
She stooped down and patted me, and then I felt as if I didn't care how much they stared. Miss Laura never forgot me. No matter how earnestly she was talking, or playing a game, or doing anything, she always stopped occasionally to give me a word or look, to show that she knew I was near.
Mrs. Wood paused in front of a building on the main street. A great many boys and girls were going in, and we went with them. We found ourselves in a large room, with a platform at one end of it. There were some chairs on this platform, and a small table.
A boy stood by this table with his hand on a bell. Presently he rang it, and then every one kept still. Mrs. Wood whispered to Miss Laura that this boy was the president of the band, and the young man with the pale face and curly hair who sat in front of him, was Mr. Maxwell, the artist's son, who had formed this Band of Mercy.
The lad who presided had a ringing, pleasant voice. He said they would begin their meeting by singing a
