As they climbed the steps leading to the Home, Clematis looked up at the policeman.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“This is the Children’s Home, miss. You will have a fine time here.”

A young woman with a kind face opened the door.

The policeman did not go in. “Here is a child I found on Chambers Street,” he said. “We can’t find out where she lives.”

“Oh, I see,” said the woman.

“Could you take her in for a while, till we can find her parents?”

“Yes, I guess we have room for her. Come in, little girl.”

At that moment there was a scratching sound, and Deborah stuck her head out.

“Miew,” said Deborah, who was still hungry. Perhaps she thought it was another bakery.

“Dear me!” cried the young woman, “we can’t have that cat in here.”

Clematis drew back, and reached for Jim Cunneen’s hand.

“It’s a very nice cat, I’m sure,” said the policeman.

He felt sorry for Clematis. He knew how she loved her kitten.

“But it’s against the rules. The children can never have cats or dogs in here.”

Clematis, with tears in her eyes, turned away.

“Come on,” she said to her big friend. “Let us go.”

But Jim Cunneen drew her back. He loved little girls, and was also fond of cats.

“Don’t you think the cook might need it for a day or two, to catch the rats?” he asked, with his best smile.

“Oh dear me, I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s against the rules for children to bring in pets.”

“Ah then, just wait a minute. I’ll be right back.”

The policeman ran down the steps and around the corner of the house, while the young woman asked Clematis questions.

“It’s all right then, I’m sure,” he called as he came back. “Katie says she would be very glad to have that cat to help her catch the rats.”

The young woman laughed; Clematis dried her tears, and Jim Cunneen waved his hand and said goodby.

In another moment the door opened, and Clematis, with Deborah still in her arms, was in her new home.

It was supper hour at the Children’s Home. In the big dining room three long tables were set.

At each place on the clean, bare table was a plate, a small yellow bowl, and a spoon.

Beside each plate was a blue gingham bib.

Jane, one of the girls in the Home, was filling the bowls on her table with milk from a big brown pitcher.

Two little girls worked at each of the tables. While one filled the bowls, the other brought the bread.

She put two thick slices of bread and a big cookie on each plate.

The young woman who had let Clematis in, came to the table near the door.

“There is a new girl at your table tonight, Jane,” she said. “She will sit next to me.”

“All right, Miss Rose,” answered Jane, carefully filling the last yellow bowl.

“Please may I ring the bell tonight, Miss Rose?” asked Sally, who had been helping Jane.

Miss Rose looked at the table. Every slice of bread and every cookie was in place.

“Yes, dear; your work is well done. You may ring.”

At the sound of the supper bell, a tramping of many feet sounded in the long hall.

The doors of the dining room were opened, and Mrs. Snow came in, followed by a double line of little girls.

Each girl knew just where to find her place, and stood waiting for the signal to sit.

A teacher stood at the head of each table, and beside Miss Rose was the little stranger.

Mrs. Snow was the housemother. She asked the blessing, while every little girl bowed her head.

Clematis stared about at the other children all this time, and wondered what they were doing.

Now they were seated, and each girl buttoned her bib in place before she tasted her supper.

Sally sat next to Clematis.

“They gave you a bath, didn’t they?” she said, as she put her bread into her bowl.

Clematis nodded.

“And you got a nice clean apron like ours, didn’t you?”

Clematis nodded again.

“Oh, see her hair, it’s lovely!” sighed a little girl across the table, who had short, straight hair.

Clematis’ soft brown curls were neatly brushed, and tied with a dark red ribbon.

She did not look much like the child who came in an hour before.

“What’s her name?” asked Jane, looking at Miss Rose.

“We’ll ask her tomorrow. Now stop talking please, so she can eat her supper.”

At that, the little girl looked up at Miss Rose and said: “My name is Clematis, and my kitty’s name is Deborah.”

Just as she said this, a very strange noise was heard. Every child stopped eating. Miss Rose turned red, and Mrs. Snow looked up in surprise.

“Miew, miew, miew,” came from under the table. In another minute a little head peeped over the edge of the table where Clematis sat. It was a kitten, with a black spot over one eye.

“Miew, miew,” Deborah continued, and stuck her little red tongue right into the yellow bowl. She was very hungry, and could wait no longer.

Mrs. Snow rapped on the table, for every child laughed right out. What fun it was! No one had ever seen a cat in there before.

“Miss Rose, will you kindly put that cat out. Put her out the front door.” Mrs. Snow was very stern. She didn’t wish any cats in the Home.

Clematis looked at Mrs. Snow. Her eyes filled with tears, and she began to sob.

Miss Rose turned as red as Deborah’s tongue. She had not asked Mrs. Snow if she might let the cat in. She thought it would stay in the kitchen with Katie.

“Did you hear me, Miss Rose? I wish you would please put the cat out the door. We can’t have it here.”

Miss Rose started to get up, when Clematis slipped out of her chair, hugging Deborah tightly to her breast.

The tears were running down her cheeks, as she started for the door.

“Where are you going, little girl?” said Mrs. Snow.

Clematis did not answer, but kept right on.

“Stop her, Miss Rose. What is the matter, anyway? Dear me, what a fuss!”

Miss Rose caught Clematis by the arm.

“Wait, dear,” she said. “Don’t act like that. Answer Mrs. Snow.”

“I don’t care,” sobbed Clematis, looking back. “I don’t want to stay here if you are going to throw my cat away.”

“I should have asked you, Mrs. Snow,” said Miss Rose. “She had the kitten with her. She cried to bring it in, and Katie said she would care for it in the kitchen.”

“Oh, so that is it. Well, don’t cry, child. Take it back to Katie, and tell her to keep the door shut.”

“She’s hungry,” said Clematis, drying her eyes on her sleeve.

“Well, ask Katie to feed her then, and come right back to the table.”