Of course he was.
Would he not take this lost child to 99 Linwood Street?
Of course he would. Milkmen, from their profession, have hearts warm toward children.
Well, if he were to take her, he had better take her trunk too.
To which illogical proposal the milkman acceded—on the afternoon route there is so much less milk to take than there is in the morning.
So Nora was lifted into the milk-wagon. In tears she kissed good Mrs. Flynn. The boys and girls assembled to bid her good-by, and even she had a hope for a few moments that her troubles were at an end.
At 99 Linwood Street, Roxbury, they were preparing for the Review Club.
The Review Club met once a fortnight at half-past two o’clock at the house of one or another of the members. They first arranged the little details of the business. Then the hostess read, or made some one read, the scraps which seemed most worthy in the reviews and magazines of the last issues, and at four the husbands and brothers and neighbors generally dropped in, and there was afternoon tea.
“You are sure you have cream enough, Ellen?”
“Oh, yes, mum.”