We might have to send for a doctor, you know."

"Oh, gee!" said Bob in awe and dismay and hovered anxiously at the edge of the group.

But the first drop of hot tea that passed her lips brought the mother back to her anxious little family again, and Bob went whistling out across the street to the drugstore to get some cream and a whole bottle of milk.

When he came back, his mother was propped up with pillows on the davenport and Melissa was feeding her spoonfuls of tea. The color was coming slowly back into her face, and from the kitchenette came the most delicious odor of broiling beefsteak.

It was not till then that Rosalie came softly around the little table to the gas stove where Phyllis was broiling the steak and whispered in a tone full of wonder and delight, and a kind of sweet shame, almost as if she were half-frightened at what she had done.

"Oh, Phyllis, what do you think? It was a beefsteak I prayed for! Wasn't that wonderful?"

Phyllis looked at her little sister with an almost startled expression.

"You did!" she said thoughtfully. "That is very strange! Yes, I guess it was wonderful."

They were just about to sit down to their wonderful meal. Phyllis had lifted the plate from the soaked bread and put in a generous chunk of butter with chopped onions and parsley, and its savory smell mingled with the heavenly smell of that wonderful steak, steaming there on its platter. The glasses were brimming with milk, a mound of jelly was quivering in the center of the table, and the teapot with a fresh supply of tea was ready. The mother was just insisting that she was entirely able to get up and sit at the table now that she had been revived by the tea, and everybody was cheerful and hungry to the last degree. Then, suddenly, they heard a door slam on the other side of the hall, and a heavy step came down the hall, that ominous Barkus footfall that had grown familiar through the last bitter months of their sojourn in Slacker Street. Everybody stopped short and listened to the menacing steps, and Phyllis almost dropped the carving knife she held, a look of fear coming into her face. This surely was swift retribution coming to her for making the furnace fire! She looked at Melissa, and Melissa shrank visibly, as they both looked at the white-faced little mother. What could they do to prevent a scene? What might not happen to Mother if she had to go through another such tirade as they had endured last evening?

Then the heavy footsteps halted at their door, and a thunderous knock came, resounding enough to wake the Seven Sleepers. In shocked silence the five hungry Challengers stood and listened to that knock and looked at one another.

CHAPTER THREE

Just that instant they stood listening. Then Phyllis laid down the whetstone and the carving knife she was sharpening and walked swiftly over to the door.

"Don't you go, Phyl," whispered Melissa, putting out a frightened detaining hand. "I'll go."

"No," said Phyllis, summoning a fleeting grin. "It's my job." And she swept the door open bravely.

Mrs. Barkus was short and square, with a large head covered with coarse black hair, always untidy. Her eyes now as she stood under the flickering hall light of the old gas jet looked like battle-axes, and her nostrils were widespread like a warhorse that snuffs the battle from afar.

"Where's yer ma?" she asked, sending a sharp glance into the room beyond.

"Mother is lying down. She's just come in, and she's not feeling well. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, I guess she don't feel well. I guess that's a convenient way to get outta her obligations," sneered the Barkus, lumbering a step nearer. "Well, that don't make any diffrunce ta me. Step aside. I wantta see yar ma."
"Please!" said Phyllis, stepping in front of the woman as she made to enter the room. "Mother fainted dead away when she came in, and we've just been able to bring her to. Won't you talk a little more quietly, Mrs. Barkus? Mother really is feeling very unwell, and I'm afraid she may faint again."

"Oh, yes, I suppose she can do it to order any minute. She prob'ly had lots of experience. But ya can't put that over on me. I'm not a spring chicken. I'm going ta see fer myself. Get outta my way!" She thrust Phyllis aside and strode angrily into the room, going straight over to the couch to face Mrs.