At the crossing they were caught in a jam of traffic and pedestrians. Little Lena May clung to Gloria's arm, looking about as though terrorized at this new and startling experience. When, after some moments' delay, the opposite sidewalk was reached in safety, Bobs exclaimed gleefully: "Wasn't that great?" But Lena May had not enjoyed the experience, and it was quite evident to the other two that it was going to be very hard for their sensitive, frail youngest sister to be transplanted from her gardens, where she had spent long, quiet, happy hours, painting the scenes she loved, to this maelstrom of foreign humanity. There was almost a pang of regret in the heart of the girl who had mothered the others when she realized fully, for the first time, what her own choice of a home location might mean to their youngest. Perhaps she had been selfish, because of her own great interest in Settlement Work, to plan to have them all live on the crowded East Side, but her fears were set at rest a moment later when they came upon a group of children, scarcely more than babies, who were playing in a gutter. Lena May's sweet face brightened and, smiling up at Gloria, she exclaimed: "Aren't they dears, in spite of the rags and dirt? I'd love to do something for them."