onged to what Jim called the "slap-dash school."

"We shall know by the amount of rubber left at the end of the term
whether you have taken my valuable advice," said Florence. "What's in
that other package, Baby? I know it is Anita's by the extreme elegance
of its appearance."

[Illustration: "'MANY HAPPY RETURNS OF THE DAY, SMALL SISTER,' SAID
ANITA."]

Dorothea opened an oblong package tied with green ribbon and found a set
of blotters fastened to a dark green suede cover ornamented with an
openwork design of four-leaf clovers, and a pen-wiper to match. On top
lay a slip of paper on which was written in Anita's pretty hand:

Wishing "Our Youngest" good luck and a happy school year.

"I'm not good at verses, so you'll have to be content with plain prose,"
said Anita, and Dorothea assured her that she was quite satisfied.

"Half past eight, Dolly," said her mother when breakfast was over. "It
is time you started."

"Oh, not yet, mother," said Dorothea the Dawdler. "It only takes me
fifteen minutes."

"Now, see here," said Jim; "what do you suppose stirring young
business-men like your father and brother are lingering until the nine
o'clock train for, unless it is to see you off for school? We want to
give you as good a send-off as possible, for you're going to be absent
four whole hours, but we can't,--unless you do your part and begin to go
pretty soon. I don't believe you've got all your books together, as it
is."

[Illustration: "'LEND ME YOUR PENCILS, WON'T YOU, JIM?' SAID DOROTHEA."]

"Yes, I have," answered Dorothea triumphantly. "They are all on the hall
table, for I put them there last night. Oh, gracious!" she exclaimed
blankly: "I forgot to see whether I had any pencils! I don't believe I
have one! Jim, lend me yours, won't you? Just for to-day."

"Lend you my most cherished possession? Never!" said Jim, placing his
hand dramatically over his breast pocket.

"Then, Daddy, won't you please lend me yours?"

"Trot along, trot along!" said her father; and Dorothea, not knowing
quite what to make of having her demands thus ignored, put on her big
sailor hat and started to gather up her books. On top of the pile was a
slender inlaid box under a card bearing the words, "For Dolly, from
Father." Pushing back the sliding cover, Dorothea saw that the box
contained a row of pencils, all beautifully sharpened, a dozen pens, and
a slim gunmetal penholder.

"Oh!" she squealed with delight. "So th