Three days of hard work for everybody and then the little flat into which the Merrills had moved began to look like a real home. The unpacking was all done and the rubbish cleared away; the furniture was polished and set in place; the closets were in order and every cupboard and shelf held just the right things for comfort. It wasn’t such an easy matter to stow away all the things the Merrills had used in their pretty house—the five room apartment was much smaller than the house of course—but with everybody’s help the job was done.

“Now then,” said Mrs. Merrill, happily, in the late afternoon of the third day, “if you’ll run the rods in these curtains, Mary Jane, I’ll hang them up where they belong and then we’ll all three go to market and then—guess what? We’ll have dinner in our own new home!”

Mary Jane thought that would be fun, for, much as she loved eating in the hotel where they had been living while getting the new home fixed, she liked better to eat her mother’s cooking. So it was a very happy little girl who slipped the rods into the living room curtains and then put on her hat and hunted up the market basket from the pantry.

Now many times before this, Mary Jane had been marketing with her mother. But never had she been to such a market! Before, marketing meant going to the grocery store about three blocks from their home; it meant talking to the very interested and friendly grocer who had known Mary Jane ever since she first appeared at the grocery in her big, well-covered cab—she was then about two months old; it meant telling Mr. Shover, the grocer, just what they wanted and picking out the sorts of things they liked best. But marketing in Chicago was very different. In the first place there wasn’t a person around they had ever seen before; and then everything was so big and there was so much food. Mary Jane thought there couldn’t possibly be enough folks in Chicago to eat all those good things! But when she and her mother actually got into the store and began to buy, Mary Jane forgot all about the strangeness and remembered only the fun. For they didn’t get somebody to wait on them as they used to at Mr. Shover’s—not at all! They waited on themselves! They went through a little turnstile and then wandered around among the good things all by themselves and they took down from the well-stocked shelves anything they wanted. It certainly was queer.

“Can we just take anything?” exclaimed Mary Jane in amazement as her mother explained what they were to do.

“Well,” laughed Mrs. Merrill, “you must remember we have to pay for things just the same as we used to at Mr. Shover’s. But we can take anything we want—if we pay for it.”

“Then I’ll pick you out some good things to eat, mother!” cried Mary Jane happily, “don’t you worry about thinking what we’re going to have!”

Now Mary Jane really did know how to read, at least a little, but she didn’t stop to read on this important occasion. She looked at the pictures on the cans of goodies and she picked out a can of all her favorites and set them in the basket Mrs. Merrill carried on her arm. But that didn’t work, for Mrs. Merrill had a long list and the basket wouldn’t hold only so much. So they decided to let Mrs. Merrill pick out three things from her list and then Mary Jane could buy one favorite; then three more things from the list and then another favorite. That proved to be great fun and it certainly did fill the basket in a hurry! Mary Jane was just trying to decide between a box of marshmallows and a pan of nice, gooey, sugary sweet rolls when Mrs. Merrill said, “whichever you decide, Mary Jane, you’ll have to carry the bundle yourself, because this basket won’t hold another parcel—not even a little one.”

Mary Jane decided on the rolls and she took them over to the counter to have them wrapped up and there she almost bumped into—Betty Holden, no less! Betty and her mother were shopping too, and their basket was almost as full as Mrs. Merrill’s.

“We market after school,” said Mrs. Holden, “and then Ed brings his wagon to meet us and hauls the stuff home. We’ll get him to give you a lift too.”

“And then can Mary Jane come over to our house to play?” asked Betty.

“For a little while,” agreed Mrs. Merrill, smilingly, “but she won’t want to stay very long to-day because we’re going to have our first dinner in our new home and she’s promised to help me lots—and I need it.”

Just then they spied Ed’s face at the door so they hurried through the second turnstile, paid for their groceries and left the store. Ed’s wagon proved to be very big and he was glad to give them plenty of room for the Merrill basket.

“Are you going to start in school to-morrow?” asked Betty as they walked off toward home.

“I’m going over to see about that to-morrow morning,” said Mrs. Merrill. “We’ve been so busy unpacking and settling that we haven’t even thought about it till now. Do you like your school, Betty?”

“Yes, I do, lots!” exclaimed Betty heartily. “I’m just through kindergarten this spring, I am, and next fall I’m first year.”

“Then I think you must be just about where Mary Jane will be,” said Mrs. Merrill.

The two little girls ran skipping ahead, talking about what they would do and where they would sit and all the things that girls plan for school.

But when Mrs. Merrill took Alice and Mary Jane over the next morning, it didn’t work out as planned. Alice was entered and found herself in the very same room and only two seats away from Frances, which seemed perfect. But there wasn’t room for Mary Jane! The kindergarten was crowded, very, very crowded, and new little folks weren’t allowed to come in. Miss Gilbert, the teacher, talked with Mary Jane a while and Mary Jane told her all the work she had done and all the things she had learned about.

“I really think, Mrs. Merrill,” said the teacher finally, “that your little girl is ready for the first grade. She seems very well prepared. But they don’t take new first graders so late in the year. Why don’t you keep her out of school the rest of this term and then next year, enter her in the first grade?”

Mrs. Merrill thought that was a fine plan. There would be so many new sights to see and things to learn in the city that Mary Jane would find plenty to do.

But Mary Jane was keenly disappointed. “I wanted to stay in Betty’s room,” she explained to the teacher. “She asked me to sit by her this morning, she did, and I promised yes I would.”

“Then I’ll tell you what you may do,” suggested the teacher kindly. “Two of our folks are absent this morning so we have enough chairs to go around. Wouldn’t you like to stay with Betty and visit? And then just a little before time for school to be out, Betty can take you up to your sister’s room and she can bring you home.”

Mrs. Merrill agreed that that was a fine plan, so Mary Jane went to the cloak room to hang up her hat and her mother hurried back home.

At first Mary Jane felt very strange in the new school room. There were so many children there and the songs were new and the games were new and everything seemed different. She almost—not really, but almost—wished she had gone home with her mother. And then, after singing three songs Mary Jane didn’t know, the children made a big circle and let Mary Jane stand in the middle and they sang the song Mary Jane knew so very well,

“I went to visit a friend to-day, She only lives across the way, She said she couldn’t come out to play Because it was her ——”

Quick as a flash Mary Jane dropped onto her knees and began to act out packing things into a box.

For a minute the children hesitated. That was a strange thing to be acting; Mary Jane was not washing or ironing or churning or sweeping or any of the things the children usually acted and they were all puzzled. Then suddenly Betty remembered the back stairway and all the piles of boxes and excelsior on Mary Jane’s back stairway and she called out the end of the song—“because it was her moving day!” And everybody finished the verse with a flourish.

After that Mary Jane felt more at home and the morning went oh, so very quickly, till recess time, when they all went out into the big yard to play in the sunshine.

Betty and her particular friends were gathering together for a circle game in the corner of the yard when Mary Jane heard a soft, helpless little sound close at hand. Without stopping to say anything to any one, she ran over to the fence and there, caught in between the tall iron bars, was the tiniest, blackest little dog she had ever seen. He evidently had seen the children coming out to play, had wanted to play with them and had supposed he could slip right through between the bars of the fence.

Mary Jane tried to pull him out but he was stuck fast. So she called Betty.

“Here!” shouted one of the boys, “I’ll pull him out!”

“No you don’t,” cried Betty imperatively, “you let him alone! We’ll do it!” And her snapping black eyes flashed so positively that the boy obeyed. But Betty couldn’t pull the dog through either, the bars were too close, she couldn’t move him either way.

“I’ll tell you what let’s do,” she said. “Mary Jane, you stay here and guard him so nobody tries to pull him out and I’ll go and get Tom and he’ll know what to do.” Tom was the janitor.

Mary Jane stood close by the dog and patted his head and talked kindly to him so he would know somebody was trying to help him. And all the girls and boys who had started to play together gathered around and watched Mary Jane while Betty ran back to the school building and down into the basement to fetch the janitor.

Fortunately, Tom was in his office and came quickly in response to Betty’s call. He saw at once what the trouble was and discovered a way to remedy it. It seems that the big iron bars that made the fence were heavier at the bottom than nearer the top, so the space between the bars got wider higher up. Tom took firm hold of the wiggling little creature and gently but very firmly pushed him straight up between the bars. That didn’t hurt like trying to pull him out, so the dog stopped barking and whining. And in a second Tom had him out—half way up the fence there was plenty of room to lift him right through.

Poor little doggie! He was so glad to be out and so frightened by his experience that when Tom laid him down on the grass he looked quite forlorn. Mary Jane sat down beside him and gathered him up into her arms.

“Don’t you be afraid, doggie,” she said softly, “we’ll take care of you, don’t you be afraid a bit!”

“What you going to do with him?” asked one of the girls.

But Mary Jane didn’t have to answer that question. Before she could speak, a small boy came running along the street, crying as hard as he could cry and shouting between sobs, “I’ve lost my dog! I’ve lost my dog! Somebody’s stole my dog!”

“No they haven’t,” called Betty, “maybe this is yours!”

The little boy rubbed his eyes, looked through the fence—and a look of happiness spread over his small face.

“It’s him! It’s him! It’s him!” he shouted happily, “then he isn’t stole!”

It took only a minute to run around the gate, dash across the school yard and grab the tiny little dog into his arms. And the children could tell by the way the little creature snuggled down that the love wasn’t all on one side—evidently the little boy was a good master.

Right at that minute, before there was a chance to start a game or any play, a great bell in the school doorway began to ring. Mary Jane was used to a small school of course—a school so small that the teacher came to the window and simply called when recess was over. So she stared in amazement when the great bell rang out so noisily.

“Come on!” shouted Betty, “recess is over!”

“Soon as I tell this doggie good-by!” replied Mary Jane.

Betty didn’t hear and, supposing Mary Jane was right behind her, she went on into her place in line. And Mary Jane, remembering how leisurely folks went up after recess at her old school, didn’t pay any attention to the rapidly forming lines. She turned around and patted the tiny dog and nodded and smiled and whispered her good-by.

When she did turn to go in with Betty, she was amazed to see all the children had disappeared into the building. She scampered over to the door as fast as ever she could. And up the stairs—but not a soul did she see! Only the click of a closing door could be heard—a click that made Mary Jane feel really shut out and lonely.

“Now let’s see,” said Mary Jane to herself, “Betty’s room was right around a corner—” But there wasn’t any room around that first corner—only a long hall. A lump came into Mary Jane’s throat. The building was so big, so very, very big. And she felt so little, so very, very little. She swallowed twice, determined not to cry and then she said out loud in a queer frightened little voice, “I guess I’m lost. I’m lost in school!”