urning about it today, though as a general
thing she doesn't like boys unless they are models of elegance. She has
been doing Dan's head, and it is not quite finished. I never saw her so
interested in any work, and it's very well done. He is so striking and
big he always makes me think of the Dying Gladiator or some of those
antique creatures. There's Bess now. Dear child, how sweet she looks
tonight!' answered Daisy, waving her hand as the Princess went by with
Grandpa on her arm.

'I never thought he would turn out so well. Don't you remember how we
used to call him "the bad boy" and be sure he would become a pirate or
something awful because he glared at us and swore sometimes? Now he is
the handsomest of all the boys, and very entertaining with his stories
and plans. I like him very much; he's so big and strong and independent.
I'm tired of mollycoddles and book-worms,' said Nan in her decided way.

'Not handsomer that Nat!' cried loyal Daisy, contrasting two faces
below, one unusually gay, the other sentimentally sober even in the
act of munching cake. 'I like Dan, and am glad he is doing well; but
he tires me, and I'm still a little afraid of him. Quiet people suit me
best.'

'Life is a fight, and I like a good soldier. Boys take things too
easily, don't see how serious it all is and go to work in earnest. Look
at that absurd Tom, wasting his time and making an object of himself
just because he can't have what he wants, like a baby crying for the
moon. I've no patience with such nonsense,' scolded Nan, looking down at
the jovial Thomas, who was playfully putting macaroons in Emil's shoes,
and trying to beguile his exile as best he could.

'Most girls would be touched by such fidelity. I think it's beautiful,'
said Daisy behind her fan; for other girls sat just below.

'You are a sentimental goose and not a judge. Nat will be twice the man
when he comes back after his trip. I wish Tom was going with him. My
idea is that if we girls have any influence we should use it for the
good of these boys, and not pamper them up, making slaves of ourselves
and tyrants of them. Let them prove what they can do and be before they
ask anything of us, and give us a chance to do the same. Then we know
where we are, and shall not make mistakes to mourn over all our lives.'

'Hear, hear!' cried Alice Heath, who was a girl after Nan's own heart,
and had chosen a career, like a brave and sensible young woman. 'Only
give us a chanc