ler resumed his tutelary hold of little Beauling's hand, and led him quite a long way up the village street, under the greening elms, until they came to another house. Here they rang the bell. And a woman with a tired, girlish face, clothes that were dark and not pretty, and dark hair done as plainly as possible, came to the door. Judge Tyler called her "Dorothy," and asked her if she would do him the favor of letting his little friend Tom Beauling play with her children for a while. But the woman called Dorothy said that her children were doing their lessons. Then Judge Tyler said, "On such a bright afternoon!" and he went on and told the woman that she must let little Beauling play with her children that afternoon, and that he would tell her the reason why, later; and that she herself must come with him to his house, for it was more important than all other things. So the woman reluctantly consented, and having called her children, two grave, tiny, male and female nonentities, she turned little Beauling over to their mer-
