brought home one day from the drug store
several dozen tiny glass bottles. Around the neck of each they fastened
a bit of wire and bent it into a hook which fitted into an eye sewed on
to the old but pretty white frock which Helen was sacrificing to the
good cause. After she had put on the dress each one of these bottles was
fitted with its flowers which had been picked some time before and
revived in warm water and salt so that they would not wilt.

"These bottles make me think of a story our French teacher told us
once," Helen laughed as she stood carefully to be made into a bouquet.
"There was a real Cyrano de Bergerac who lived in the 17th century. He
told a tale supposed to be about his own adventures in which he said
that once he fastened about himself a number of phials filled with dew.
The heat of the sun attracted them as it does the clouds and raised him
high in the air. When he found that he was not going to alight on the
moon as he had thought, he broke some of the phials and descended to
earth again."

"What a ridiculous story," laughed Ethel Blue, kneeling at Helen's feet
with a heap of flowers beside her on the floor.

"The rest of it is quite as foolish. When he landed on the earth again
he found that the sun was still shining, although according to his
calculation it ought to be midnight; and he also did not recognize the
place he dropped upon in spite of the fact that he had apparently gone
straight up and fallen straight down. Strange people surrounded him and
he had difficulty in making himself understood. After a time he was
taken before an official from whom he learned that on account of the
rotation of the earth under him while he was in the air, although he had
risen when but two leagues from Paris he had descended in Canada."

The younger girls laughed delightedly at this absurd tale, as they
worked at their task. Bits of trailing vine fell from glass to glass so
that none of the holders showed, but a delicate tinkling sounded from
them like the water of a brook.

"This gown of yours is certainly successful," decided Margaret,
surveying the result of the Ethels' work, "but I dare say it isn't
comfortable, so you'd better have another one that you can slip into
behind the scenes after you've made the rounds in this."

Helen took the advice and after the procession had passed by, she put on
a pretty flowered muslin with pink ribbons.

Dorothy walked immediately behind Helen. She was dressed