Frances might go with her to
carry home some sewing her mother had finished.

Mrs. Morrison looked a little doubtful, but, before she could speak,
Frances exclaimed: "Do please say yes, mother. It is a great lovely
house, and I do so want to see it."

"What do you know about it?" asked her mother.

"Emma has told me. May I go? It is such a lovely day."

"I am not sure that it is quite the thing for two little girls to go so
far alone."

"But we'll take care of each other, and--it seems to me that what you
want to do is never the thing!" Frances said impatiently.

Her mother laughed; "I have known other persons who thought that. Who
lives in this wonderful house?" she asked.

"Mrs. Marvin, but she is not at home now; there is no one there but the
housekeeper," replied Emma.

"If I let you go you must promise not to stay any longer than is
necessary for Emma's errand."

They both agreed eagerly to this, and Emma ran down to get ready.

"You mustn't turn into a little Bohemian, Wink," Mrs. Morrison said,
kissing the rosy face under the big hat.

"I don't know what it is, so I guess I couldn't turn into it," laughed
Frances, as she followed Emma.

The two children were in a gale of delight over their expedition, and,
although they meant to be very dignified, found it impossible to walk
more than a few steps without breaking into a skip.

"I wish my hair was like yours," Emma said, looking admiringly at her
companion's waving brown locks.

"But braids aren't half so much bother. I have to wear mine this way
because daddy likes it; and if you want to, you know, you can put your
hair up on kids. That is what Gladys Bowen does; hers doesn't curl one
bit."

"Gladys goes to our school, and I don't like her," remarked Emma.

"Why not? Don't you think she is pretty?"

"Yes; but she is so proud of herself. She doesn't like to go with me
because my clothes aren't as nice as hers,--I know."

"She gets that from her mother," Frances said sagely. "Whenever I go
there Mrs. Bowen asks me who made my dress or something."

"I know I don't have very pretty dresses, but my mother hasn't time,"
said Emma, rather sorrowfully.

"I think you always look nice, Emma, and I like you better than I do
Gladys."

"Oh, Frances! do you really? Then I shan't mind," cried Emma.

She was supremely happy at having Frances for a companion on her walk,
and at the prospect of showing her this wonderful house; but when at
length they