"Why, that's my school," said Mattie; "I declare I should like to go, though what on earth a Band of Hope Meeting is, goodness knows, for I don't."
"Don't leave us again, Mattie," urged Melie; "we'll be so lonesome by oursel's."
"Let's see," said Mattie thoughtfully; "it says, 'all children will be welcome.' I've a good mind to take the lot of you; and if they won't let us in with baby, why, we can come back again, I s'pose."
"What a heap of treats we are having, Mattie! You're a real good 'un!" cried Bob, cutting a somersault in view of the unusual and delightful combination of events.
"You, Bob," called Mattie, somewhat ungraciously it might seem, "stop that, and help Melie along with Fan."
Tea, which had consisted of the remains from dinner, being over, a neighbouring church clock chimed the hour, and Mattie prepared for the evening entertainment. Baby was sleeping, and resented Mattie's attempts to remove the worst of the grime from his face; but she persevered, for she felt that the credit of the family was entirely in her hands, and she was not going to risk losing it for the sake of sundry struggles and tears from its youngest member. They were all ready at last, and Mattie surveyed the effect of her handiwork with satisfaction.
"Now, you all jest keep behind me, and don't be grinning, or up to any of your larks, or they won't let you in," said Mattie, as they neared the building.
She presented herself before the door with the baby asleep in her arms, the other children tremblingly bringing up the rear. A gentleman with a kindly face was standing near the entrance.
"Do you think you can manage your baby, my little woman?" he asked, stooping to Mattie.
"Bless you, yes, sir. He's better with me than his own mammie, and'll sleep like a top all the time; and," she added, glancing behind, "these 'ere little uns belong to me too, and if you'll let us all in, I'll see as they behave theirselves."