Then Mrs.Ayres waxed tender.

She bent over the girl, and gently untied ribbons and unfastened buttons, and slipped a night-gown over her head.

Then she rolled her over in the bed, as if she had been a baby, and laid her own cheek against the hot, throbbing one of the girl.

"Mother's lamb," she said, softly.

"There, there, dear, mother knows all about it." "You don't," gasped the girl.