It was about an hour later when Betty, having washed and put away the luncheon dishes, and settled Jack with his story book and drawing materials, ran lightly down the three long flights of stairs to the Hamiltons' apartment. In one hand she carried Mrs. Hamilton's plate and napkin, and in the other a small tin money box, which jingled at every step. At the Hamiltons' front door she paused, and rather timidly rang the bell. The door was opened by the same girl who had brought the Éclairs.

"I came to bring back the plate," Betty explained, "and will you please tell Miss Winifred Hamilton that my little brother and I enjoyed the cakes very much."

"Wouldn't you like to come in and speak to her yourself?" the girl asked pleasantly; "she's right here."

She moved aside as she spoke, and there, sure enough, was Winifred standing smiling in the parlor door.

"Yes, do come in," said the little girl hospitably. "Mother's out, but I stayed at home to make a dress for one of my children. They're really my dolls, you know," she added, smiling at Betty's look of bewilderment, "but I always call them my children. I'm so very fond of them, you see, and they do seem something like real children. Come in and I'll show them to you."

There was no declining this tempting invitation, and Betty was soon making the acquaintance of Winifred's family, and being introduced respectively to Lord Fauntleroy, Rose-Florence, Violet-May, Lily-Bell, and Miss Mollie.

"You see, when my father and mother were away in California I used to be alone a good deal," Winifred explained, "and so if it hadn't been for the children I should have been rather lonely. I lived with Uncle Will and Aunt Estelle then, and Aunt Estelle is a very busy lady and has to go out a good deal. My mother hardly ever goes out without me, and I don't have nearly so much time to devote to the children as I used, but I shouldn't like to have them feel neglected, so sometimes I stay at home on purpose to look after them a little."

"How old are you?" Betty inquired. To her this conversation seemed extremely childish. She had never had much time in her busy little life to care for dolls, Jack having claimed all her thought and attention.

"I shall be ten next July, so as it's April now, father says I'm nine and three-quarters. Father's very fond of joking, and so is Uncle Will."

"You go to school, don't you?" Betty asked.

"Yes, I go to Miss Lothrop's. I was coming from school when I met you to-day. Mother almost always takes me and comes for me herself, because we have only Lizzie, and she has a great deal to do."

"We don't keep any girl at all now," said Betty, "and so I can't go to school, because there would be nobody to take care of Jack. We did keep a girl last year, but some of mother's pupils gave up, and she couldn't get any new ones, so we had to let her go. Mother gives us our lessons every afternoon when she comes home, and we study in the mornings by ourselves."

"Is your mother a teacher?" Winifred inquired with interest.

"Yes, she gives music lessons, and she plays beautifully too. We have a piano, because Jack loves music so, and mother plays to him almost every evening."

"I guess cripples always like music," said Winifred reflectively. "Mr. Bradford had a lovely music box; it played twelve tunes."

"Who is Mr. Bradford?"

"He was a crippled gentleman I used to know. He was very kind, and I loved him very much. I used to read to him, and he liked it. He died last winter."

"Some cripples are quite strong in other ways, you know," Betty hastened to explain. Winifred's remark about dying had made her vaguely uncomfortable. "Jack isn't nearly so delicate as he used to be. I think if he could only get out in the fresh air sometimes he would be ever so much better."

"Doesn't he ever go out?"

"No. You see, he can't walk at all, and he's too heavy to carry far. It's awfully hard for him never to see anything but chimneys. Our apartment is in the rear, so he can't even see the trolley cars."

"Why don't you take him for a drive sometimes?" Winifred asked sympathetically.

Betty's eyes sparkled.

"That's just what I'm going to do," she said triumphantly. "I never thought of it till to-day, but first the woman at the baker's spoke of it, and then Jack said he wished he could see Central Park. The day after to-morrow will be his birthday, and I'm going to hire a carriage and take him for a nice drive. I'm going to pay for it out of my own money too; it's to be my birthday present."

"That will be nice," said Winifred in a tone of satisfaction. "Does he know about it?"

"Yes, and he's so pleased. I'm going right over to the livery stable now to ask how much it will cost. It couldn't be more than a dollar, do you think it could?"

Winifred, whose ideas on the subject were quite as vague as Betty's own, and to whom a dollar appeared a rather large sum, replied that she was sure it couldn't, and after a little more conversation Betty departed on her errand.

With a beating heart the little girl crossed the street and entered the office of the livery stable on the opposite corner. A man was writing at a desk, but he looked up at her entrance, and laid down his pen.

"Well, miss, what can I do for you?" he inquired politely, as Betty paused, uncertain in just what words to put her request. "Do you want a cab?"

"No, thank you," said Betty, "at least not to-day, but I think I shall want one the day after to-morrow. Would you please tell me how much it would cost to hire a carriage to take us to Central Park?"

The man glanced at a big book which lay open on the desk before him.

"Central Park," he repeated, beginning to turn over the pages, "that would mean an afternoon drive, of course. Our regular charge for an afternoon drive is five dollars."

"Five dollars!" Betty gave a little gasp. "I didn't know it would be so expensive," she said, and without another word she turned and walked quickly out of the office.

But once outside she did not hurry. Very slowly she recrossed the street, entered at the familiar door, and began climbing the long flights of stairs. At the top of the first flight she was stopped by her new friend Winifred.

"I was watching for you," Winifred explained; "I wanted to know if it was all right about the carriage. Oh, what's the matter? Didn't you get it, after all?"

Betty shook her head; she could not speak just then, but all the bright look of pride and happiness had gone out of her face.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Winifred sympathetically. "Were the carriages all engaged for the day after to-morrow? Perhaps you could get one at some other stable."

"It isn't that," said Betty, trying hard to steady the quiver in her voice, "but—but they were very expensive—much more expensive than I thought. We couldn't possibly have one."

"How much are they?" Winifred inquired with interest.

"Five dollars, the man said."

"Oh!" and Winifred's eyes opened wide in astonishment; "that is a great deal of money. Uncle Will gave me a five-dollar gold-piece for Easter, and we thought it was very good of him. But if your little brother wants to go so very much, and if it's his birthday, don't you think your mother might possibly let you have the money?"

But Betty shook her head decidedly. "She couldn't possibly," she said, "I know she couldn't." And then all at once her forced composure gave way, and she burst into tears.

"Oh, he'll be so disappointed, so dreadfully disappointed," she sobbed. "Oh, I wish I had never said anything about it to him, but I was so sure a dollar would be enough, and I promised him—I promised him."

It was some few minutes later when Betty, still with red eyes, but otherwise looking much as usual, reached the top landing and paused for a moment outside their own door. Jack was so happy; how could she tell him that their cherished plan must be given up? She gave a long sigh, and drawing the door-key from her pocket, was in the act of fitting it in the lock when she heard the sound of footsteps and rustling skirts just behind her, and, turning in surprise, caught sight of a rather stout, florid lady coming up the stairs.

"This is the top floor, isn't it?" the stranger inquired rather breathlessly, as she reached the landing. She was not accustomed to climbing stairs, and did not enjoy it.

"Yes," said Betty politely.

"Well, I'm thankful to hear it, I'm sure. I never had such a climb in my life. It's an outrage not to have elevators in these high buildings. Can you tell me which is Mrs. Randall's apartment?"

"It's this one," said Betty, looking very much surprised, for she was sure she had never seen the lady before, "but Mrs. Randall is out. I'm her little girl; I could take any message."

The lady drew a step back, and stood regarding Betty with keen, though kindly scrutiny.

"So you are Mrs. Randall's little girl," she said; "I remember she told me she had children. Well, I suppose I shall have to leave my message with you, though I am sorry not to see her myself, if only to say good-bye."

"Won't you come in?" said Betty. "Mother will be at home pretty soon, I think; she generally gets back by four."

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly spare the time; my carriage is waiting, and I have no end of things to attend to this afternoon. Will you tell your mother that Mrs. Martin called? Mrs. Henry Martin. Perhaps you may have heard her speak of me."

"Oh, yes," said Betty eagerly; "mother gives music lessons to your two little boys."

"Yes, to be sure she does, and that is the very thing I wanted to see her about. My husband has suddenly decided to go to Europe on business, and we are all going with him. It was arranged only last evening, and we sail next Saturday. I hate to take the children off like this right in the middle of the quarter, and that is why I wanted to come and see your mother about it rather than write her a note. It really can't be helped, and I know she will understand. Ask her, please, to let me have her bill, and she needn't trouble to come again; the children will be too busy to take any more lessons before we sail."

"I'll tell mother," said Betty; "she'll be sorry not to have seen you herself."

Mrs. Martin was turning away, but she glanced once more at Betty's pale little face, and then, as if with a sudden thought, she paused and drew out her purse.

"My little boys are very fond of your mother," she said kindly. "They mind her better than they ever minded any other teacher they had, and their father and I are both much pleased with her methods. I hope that another winter—but one never knows what may happen. Here's a little present for you, dear; buy something nice for yourself with it."

As she spoke, Mrs. Martin held out her hand, and in it there was a bill. Betty saw it distinctly; a crisp, new five-dollar bill.

For one breathless, delicious moment, the little girl wavered, while her heart beat so fast that she could scarcely breathe, and all the blood in her body seemed to come surging up into her face and neck. Impulsively, she held out her hand. Another second and her fingers would have closed upon the tempting gift. Suddenly her hand dropped to her side, and all the color died out of her face again, leaving it even paler than before.

"You are very kind," she said in a low, unsteady voice; "thank you very much, but—but mother doesn't like to have us take money."

Mrs. Martin looked surprised, even a little annoyed. For a moment she seemed inclined to dispute the point, but seeing the child's evident embarrassment and distress, changed her mind.

"Very well, dear," she said good-naturedly. "I am sorry you won't take my present, but you are right not to do anything of which your mother would disapprove. When we come back next autumn you must get your mother to bring you to see us some time. Now good-bye. You won't forget my message, will you?"

Jack was watching anxiously for his sister's return. At the familiar sound of the latch-key he raised himself on his elbow, straining his eyes for the first glimpse of Betty's face.

"Well, is it all right?" he cried eagerly; "are we going to have the carriage? Oh, Betty, it isn't; I see it in your eyes."

Betty said nothing, but going over to the sofa, sat down beside her little brother, slipping her arm lovingly about him. Jack winked hard and bit his lip, but he, too, was silent after that first exclamation. Perhaps even Betty herself did not realize how keen this disappointment was to the little cripple. In a few moments Betty spoke.

"It was five dollars," she said.

"Five dollars!" repeated Jack incredulously. "Oh, Betty, what a lot of money! Mother could never spare all that at once."

"I could have had it, though," said Betty, speaking fast and nervously. "I could have had every bit of it. A lady was coming to see mother; I met her on the stairs. Mother gives her little boys music lessons, and she came to say they are all going to Europe next week. She was very kind; she said she wanted to give me a present, and she offered me a five-dollar bill."

Jack gasped, and two red spots glowed in his cheeks.

"You didn't take it, did you?"

"I wanted to," said Betty slowly; "I wanted to very much. I was just going to take it in my hand, and then I remembered how mother would feel, and I didn't."

Jack heaved a deep sigh.

"I'm glad you didn't," he said rather tremulously.

Again there was silence. Both children were trying hard to keep back the coming tears. Again Betty was the first to speak.

"I suppose some mothers wouldn't mind their children taking presents," she said. "I wonder why mother is so very particular?"

"Why, don't you know?" Jack's blue eyes opened wide in surprise. "It's because we're English, and mother once lived in that beautiful place with the park and the deer. She can't forget about it, even if she is poor now. She has to remember she's a lady, and ladies never do take money from strangers."

Betty sighed impatiently.

"I suppose it's wrong," she said, "but sometimes I can't help wishing mother hadn't been quite such a grand person when she lived in England. What's the use of it now when we have to live in a flat, and mother has to give music lessons and do all the housework herself? If she hadn't had all those beautiful things once, she wouldn't mind so much about being poor now."

"Well, but it's nice to have the other things to think about," said Jack. "Aren't you glad you've got ancestors?"

"I don't think I care very much," said practical Betty; "I'd rather have relations that are alive now. Winifred Hamilton said her uncle gave her a five-dollar gold-piece for Easter. I wish we had an uncle, don't you?"

"We have got Uncle Jack," said Jack thoughtfully, "but we don't know where he is, and mother doesn't like to have us ask her about him. There's the door bell, and it's mother's ring. Wait one minute, Betty, please. Don't say anything to her about the carriage; she'd be so sorry to think we were disappointed, you know."

"No, I won't," said Betty emphatically.