lly agreed with her, but modestly refrained from saying so, and
made known his errand. How poor Miss Pamela's face shone!

"Oh, my dears, come here," she cried, running to a door. "Do come here
and see what has come to us."

Ned looked curiously at the two girls who came in answer to her call.
They had become inmates of Miss Pamela's home since his last visit to
her, and he had never seen them before.

"The youngest one looks as if she might be pretty," he said to himself;
"but how funny they do look!"

They did look funny. Miss Pamela's only ideas on the subject of dressing
little girls were drawn from her memories of what she herself had worn
forty years ago. Their pantalets reached almost to their heels, and
their gingham aprons were almost as long, and cut without a gore. Their
hair was drawn tightly back, and braided in two tails, those of the
older one being long and dangly, and of the other short and stubby.

"See here, my dears," again exclaimed Miss Pamela, "here is some money
I didn't expect. Didn't I tell you, Kitty Plumstone, that Providence
would send you some new music somehow? She plays on the piano, Master
Ned; I really do think she is going to make quite a musician. I teach
her myself, you know. I can't play any more because of the stiffness in
my fingers, but Kitty can play 'Days of Absence,' and 'Come, Haste to
the Wedding,' already."

Ned was expressing pleasure at this pleasing proficiency, when Miss
Pamela bustled away with a few words about dinner, which sounded
agreeably to him after his ride.

A long ramble afterward on the farm, in company with the funny-looking
girls, proved them to be as genial and companionable as they could have
been had their dress included all the modern improvements, although Ned,
who was rather critical in such matters, still thought it a pity they
could not have blue streaks on their stockings, ruffles somewhere about
them, and wear their hair loose.

They knew where the late wild flowers and the wild strawberries grew,
and where the birds built their nests. They gathered early cherries, and
promised Ned plenty of nuts if he would come in October. They had tame
squirrels and rabbits penned up in the wonderful old ramshackle building
which did duty as barn, stable, carriage-house, granary, and general
receptacle for all kinds of queer old-fashioned lumber, the
accumulations of many years. They were poultry-fanciers, too, in a small
way; had a tiny duck-pond at