It was a merry procession that wended its way toward the Poor Farm a little later. Doctor Clark and Kitty leading the way in the phaeton with heavily laden baskets, old Denham and the rest of the We Are Sevens following in the Clyde carriage.
It must be confessed that the Christmas tree celebration was a bit disappointing to Blue Bonnet. The old ladies--and the men, who were permitted to attend also--seemed awed into silence. Perhaps the sparkling tree, bright with candles and tarlatan bags of sweets, brought memories cruel in their poignancy; and the old-fashioned songs had rather a depressing effect than otherwise.
Doctor Clark saw the shade of disappointment cross Blue Bonnet's face, and hastened to reassure her.
"It will be a great source of happiness to them, later, when the keen edge of memory has been dulled by frequent contact with the wonderful invention," he said. "Come out sometime and see for yourself."
Blue Bonnet was rather silent as she rode home that afternoon, in spite of the We Are Sevens' chatter.
"The world seems an awfully unequal sort of place, doesn't it?" she said to Sarah Blake. "Some people don't have enough money to make them comfortable, and others have so much they don't know how to spend it. What do you suppose is the reason?"
The question was beyond even thoughtful Sarah's ken.
"I don't know," she said, with all the hopelessness of a poor minister's daughter; "but I have heard Father say that if everybody could be started out equal--begin all over again--the same ones would be on top in no time, treading on those less fortunate. It seems to be the law of things, Blue Bonnet."
"But it's not fair!" Blue Bonnet insisted vehemently. "It makes me feel wicked to have so much more than others."
"But look at the good you can do--the people you can make happy. Maybe that is why you have it."
"I _will_ do good," she said, and there was conviction in her tone. "I _will_, Sarah Blake. Just you wait till I come of age. Maybe I'll have an orphan asylum all my own. You'll see!"
As Blue Bonnet entered the house on her return from the Farm, she was conscious of some sort of scurrying just inside the sitting-room. She looked about wonderingly as she hung her hat and coat on the hall rack, but could see nothing unusual. The hat, hung insecurely, fell off its peg, and she turned from the sitting-room to pick it up. The next moment a pair of strong arms enveloped her and a deep pleasant voice was saying, "Merry Christmas, Blue Bonnet."