“I shall be glad to help you, if I can, Ann....  There, Katherine, just roll my hair up.  Thank you, Girly.”

Ann had seated herself, and now spoke of her errand: 

“You’ve heard of our little charges who came so strangely to us not long ago?”

Mrs. Vandecar nodded.

“Horace and I wish to do something for them.  It seems as if they had been sent to us by Providence.  The lad is very ill, and the girl ought to go to school.  We were wondering if you could have her admitted for special lessons to Madame Duval’s.  The school associations would do such a lot for her.”  As Ann continued, she marked Mrs. Vandecar’s hesitation.  “I know very well, Dear, that I am asking you a serious thing; but Brother and I think that it would do her a world of good.”

Mrs. Vandecar thoughtfully received the shawl Katherine brought her.  Then she looked straight at Ann and said: 

“Everett doesn’t approve of your work, does he, Ann?”

Miss Shellington colored, and fingered her engagement ring.

“No,” she replied frankly; “but it’s because he refuses to know them.  They’re little dears!  I’ve explained to him our views, and have promised that they shall not interfere with any plans he and I may make.  I’ve never seen Horace vitally interested before, or at least so much so.  Now, do you think that you would be willing to do this for us?  Mildred’s going to the school, and you being a patroness will make Madame Duval listen to such a proposal from you.”

Mrs. Vandecar turned upon her visitor searchingly.

“Are you doing right, Ann, in taking these children into your home life?  I appreciate your good-heartedness; but—­”

“Horace and I have talked it all over,” interjected Ann, “and we are both assured that we are doing what is right.  Won’t you think it over, and let us know what you decide?  If you find you can’t do it—­why, we’ll arrange some other way.”

The plan of naming the children came into her mind; but she hesitated before broaching it.  Mrs. Vandecar was a type of everything high-bred and refined.  Would it offend her aristocratic sense to have the children named after her and her husband?  Ann overcame her timidity and spoke: 

“Fledra, there’s another thing I wanted to speak of.  The children came to us without proper names, and Horace suggested that we call them Floyd and Fledra.  Would you mind?”

Mrs. Vandecar drew back a little, a shade passing over her face.  A painful memory ever present seized her.  Long ago two babies had been called after their father and mother—­after her and her strong husband.  Could she admit that she did not care?  Could she consent to Ann’s request?  Ann noted her struggle, and said quickly: 

“I’m sorry—­forgive me, Dear!”

Mrs. Vandecar’s face brightened, and she smiled.

“I thought at first that I didn’t want you to; but I won’t be foolish.  Of course, call them whatever you wish.  Floyd won’t mind, either.”