her chin in her hands, and leaned on the arm of her chair to
watch him.

"How clever you are," she said, "I wish you were my brother, really and
truly, Rock."

"Well, we will pretend I am," said he. "What shall I put in your basket,
sister?"

They all laughed.

"I don't think it will hold much, but Rubina can put her work in it.
See, if I pin her arm up so, she can hold it nicely. There! I must go
and show it to mamma. I'll tell her to adopt you," she called back, as
she ran off.

"Now I must clear up my scraps," said Rock, as he put the finishing
touches to the other basket.

"Mamma says I may gather you some flowers," said Dimple, coming out
again with a pair of shears in her hand, "and she says you are a very
nice boy, a very nice boy indeed."

Rock laughed. "She wouldn't think so sometimes," said he. "I don't
believe she wants to change children with my mother."

"I hope she doesn't want to," said Dimple, then added quickly, "Not that
I don't think your mother is real nice, Rock, but you know I am so used
to mine, and she is so used to me."

"Of course," said Rock, laughing again. "I didn't mean they would
change, or even think of it."

"Now let's get the flowers," said Dimple; "you are to choose just which
you like best, Rock," she said, leading the way to the flower-beds. "The
pansies are almost gone, but there are plenty of roses yet, and
verbenas, and mignonette, and lots of things."

"Now, Rock," she said, as they went along the paths, "you are not
choosing the prettiest ones at all. I believe you are picking out the
mean ones on purpose; I am going to choose myself. You tell me,
Florence, whenever you see a real pretty one."

Florence promised, and Rock looked on, secretly pleased that they had
taken the matter into their own hands.

"What lovely ones you have chosen," he said, as Dimple gave the bunch
into his hands. "Thank you so much."

"And thank you, so much," said the girls, "for the hats, and the
baskets, and the invitation."

"You will be sure to be ready," he said, at the gate.

"Yes," they cried.

"At half-past four?"

"Yes."

"Good-bye sister; good-bye Florence; go in out of the sun."

"Good-bye, brother, keep in the shade."

Then they laughed and ran in.

"Mamma," cried Dimple. "Auntie," cried Florence, "where are you?"

"Upstairs," she answered.

Up they ran. "Aren't you glad Rock is such a nice boy? Did you know boys
could be so nice?" asked Dimple.

"I knew t