"First, I want to know what all this talk is about. Some of the girls were saying that you took something which did not belong to you. Can that be true?"

Clematis hung her head. The tears came into her eyes.

"Don't cry, Clematis," said Miss Rose. "Just tell Mrs. Snow what it is, and perhaps we can make it all right again."

"What was it, little girl?" asked Mrs. Snow, as she drew her nearer.

"It was mine, I found it first," sobbed Clematis.

"Yes, but you must remember that if we find a thing, that does not make it ours. We must find the true owner, and give it back. That is the only honest thing to do."

"What was it you found?" asked Miss Rose.

"I don't kn-ow."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do-wn by the fe-ence."

"Where is it now, Clematis?" Mrs. Snow spoke kindly, as she wiped the child's face with her handkerchief.

"It's in my pocket," answered Clematis.

She drew out her closed hand, held it before the two ladies, and slowly opened it.

Within lay a limp, withered dandelion blossom.

CHAPTER VIII

A VISITOR

Mrs. Snow still tells the story of how Clematis stole the first dandelion of the springtime, out under the leaves.

People laugh when they hear the story. You see, it all came about because the children told tales on each other, and it was a good joke on them.

But as Clematis stood there, before Mrs. Snow and Miss Rose, she didn't see the joke at all. She cried, and hid her face in her arms.

"Come here, dear," said Mrs. Snow. "It is all right, and you shall have every dandelion you find in the yard."

"Wasn't it stealing?" sobbed Clematis.

"No, it was all right, if you found it first."

"And can I have all I find first?"

"Yes, indeed you can."

Clematis lifted her head, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Oh," she said, and seemed happy once more. She smoothed the limp little flower in her hot hand.

"And now," said Mrs. Snow, "I wonder if you can tell us some more about yourself."

"Yes'm, I'll tell you all you ask, and I won't tell any lies."

"I'm sure you won't. Perhaps you can remember, now, where you lived before you came here."

Clematis shook her head. "I told Miss Rose every single thing," she said, "except--"

"Except what?"

"Except that I ran away."

Clematis hung her head again.

"Why did you run away?"

"Well, wouldn't you run away, if you had to stay in a yard all day that was nothing but bricks?"

Mrs. Snow smiled. "Perhaps I would," she replied.

"Didn't you ever go out at all?" asked Miss Rose, who had been listening.

"Just sometimes, to go over to the store. Just across the street and back, and that was all bricks, too."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Clematis held out her hand]

"Do you think you could find your way home again, if Miss Rose went with you?"

Clematis shook her head. "Oh, no. It was a long, long way. I was most dead from walking."

Mrs. Snow thought a moment. Then she said, "Miss Rose tells me that you have not learned to read. Is that true?"

"Yes'm, I never learned to do anything except count the change I got. But I can learn to read, and do numbers, too."

Clematis spoke without sobbing now. She was thinking of the country, where girls went who did well.

"Do you think you could take her in a cla.s.s by herself for a short time?" Mrs. Snow asked, turning to Miss Rose.

Miss Rose was about to answer, when one of the older girls came to the door.

"What is it, Ruth?"

"Please, Mrs. Snow, a man wants to see you."