“Please give it to me!” cried Fanny, trying to catch it, and glad Jessie was safe.

“No; Cinderella must come and put it on.  Here’s the Prince all ready to help her,” said the finder of the shoe, holding it up.

“And here are lots of proud sisters ready to cut off their toes and heels if they could only get on such a small slipper,” added another young Mygar, enjoying the fun immensely.

“Listen, and let me tell you something.  It’s Jessie Delano’s, and she has run away because she lost it.  Don’t laugh and make fun of it, because it was worn out in helping us.  You all know what a hard time she has had, but you don’t know how good and brave and patient she is, trying to help poor Laura and to earn her living.  I asked her to teach me, and I shall pay her well for it, because I couldn’t have gone on if she hadn’t.  If any of you feel as grateful as I do, and as sorry for her, you can show it in any kind way you please, for it must be dreadful to be so poor.”

Fanny had spoken quickly, and at the last Words hid the tremble in her voice with a cough, being rather scared at what she had done on the impulse of the moment.  But it was a true impulse, and the generous young hearts were quick to answer it.  The old slipper was respectfully handed to her with many apologies and various penitent suggestions.  None were adopted just then, however, for Fanny ran off to find Jessie with her things on waiting—­for a chance to slip away unseen.  No persuasions would keep her to supper; and at last, with many thanks, she was allowed to go, while Fanny returned to lay plans with her guests as they disturbed their digestions with lobster salad, ice-cream, and strong coffee.

Feeling more than ever like Cinderella as she hurried out into the winter night, leaving all the good times behind her, Jessie stood waiting for a car on the windy street-corner, with the ragged slippers under her arm, tears of weariness and vexation in her eyes, and a resentful feeling against an unjust fate lying heavy at her heart.  The glimpses of her old gay, easy life, which these rehearsals had given her, made the real hardship and loneliness of her present life all the more irksome, and that night she felt as if she could not bear it much longer.  She longed with all a girl’s love of gayety to go to the Kirmess, and no one thought to invite her.  She could not go alone even if she yielded to temptation and spent her own money.  Laura would have to hire a carriage if she ventured to try it; so it was impossible, for six or seven dollars was a fortune to the poor girls now.  To have been one of the happy creatures who were to take part in it, to dance on the green in a dainty costume to the music of a full band,—­to see and do and enjoy all the delights of those two enchanting evenings, would have filled Jessie’s cup to overflowing.  But since she might as well cry for the moon she tried to get some comfort out of imagining it all as she rumbled home in a snowstorm, and cried herself to sleep after giving Laura a cheerful account of the rehearsal, omitting the catastrophe.