“Why, they have to have something to eat afterward,” she reproached him.  “We’re going to have a picnic up at the Hall.  Then those that can will join their people for the fireworks, and the others will be taken home to Old Paloma.  The little Scott girl will stay with Ellen and Jo overnight; Mammy Currey will look after them, and they’ll watch the fireworks from my porch.  I’ve written to ask Doctor Young--he’s the best in San Francisco—­to come up from the city next day to see what he thinks can be done for Mary Scott.”

“You get a lot of fun out of your money, don’t you, Sidney?” said Barry, watching her amusedly, as she tucked the list into her purse and arose with a great air of business.

“More than any one woman deserves,” she answered soberly.

“Walter,” said Anne Pratt to her brother, one evening about this time, as she decorously filled his plate from the silver tureen, “have you heard that Mrs. Burgoyne has gathered up about twenty children in Old Paloma—­cripples, and orphans, and I don’t know what all!—­and is getting up a wagon for the Flower Festival?  I was up at the Hall to-day, and they’re working like beavers.”

“Carew said something about it,” said Walter Pratt.  “Seems a good idea.  Those poor little kids over there don’t have much fun.”

“You never said so before, Walter,” his sister returned almost resentfully.

“I don’t know why I shouldn’t have,” said Walter literally.  “It’s true.”

“If we did anything for any children, it ought to be Lizzie’s,” said Miss Pratt uncomfortably, after a pause.

“I wish to the Lord we could do something for Lizzie’s kids,” her brother observed suddenly.  “I suppose it would kill you to have ’em up here?”

“Kill me!” Miss Anne echoed with painful eagerness, and with a sudden tremble of her thin, long hand.  “I don’t know why it should; there never were better behaved children born.  I don’t like Lizzie’s husband, and never shall;” she rushed on, “but seeing those children up at the Hall to-day made me think of Betty, and Hope, and Davy, cooped up down there in town.  They’d love the Flower Festival, and I could take them up to the Hall, and Nanny would be wild with joy to have Lizzie’s children here; she’d bake cookies and gingerbread—­” A flush had come into her faded, cool cheek.  “Wouldn’t they be in your way?  You really wouldn’t mind—­you won’t change your mind about it, Walt?” she said timidly.

“Change my mind!  Why, I’ll love to have them running round here,” he answered warmly.  “Write Lizzie to-night, and tell her I’ve got to go down Tuesday, and I’ll bring ’em up,”

“I’ll tell her that just the things they have will be quite good enough,” said Miss Pratt.  “The Burgoyne children just wear play-ginghams—­I’ll get them anything else they need!”

“It won’t interfere with your club work, Anne?”