uiet very soon after the "good nights"
had been spoken.

In the front room, the girls were wakeful. Beatrice, as the oldest
sister, felt, in her quiet thoughtful way, that perhaps, the way she did
in the coming change, would act as an example to the others; and that an
extra duty rested on her, to be as patient and willing as possible, in
whatever might be necessary for them to do, and to be all to mother,
that an elder daughter should be, in time of trouble. Ernestine was also
deep in thought, and had twisted her pillow into such a position, that
the moonlight made quite a halo around her yellow hair and made her
face, with its beautiful eyes, look like a cameo in golden setting. She
knew it, too, just as well as Beatrice, who at that moment, turned and
looked at her, and furthermore, she knew just how to go on with what she
wanted to accomplish.

"Bea," she said, with her voice dropped to its sweetest, "I want you to
do something for me."

"What?"

"You said you had nine dollars, will you loan me five?"

"How? I was going to give it to papa to-morrow."

"You know he wouldn't take it," began Ernestine, impatiently; then
smoothed her voice carefully again, and went on: "Papa won't have us
give up everything, Bea. We are all willing to lessen expenses at home,
but we are not to scrimp and pinch ourselves all to pieces. I'll pay you
back just as soon as----"

"It isn't that," interrupted Bea, "But I don't see how you can want to
spend it now."

"But I do; there are the loveliest lace scarfs----"

"Lace scarfs;" cried Bea again, in shocked surprise. "Would you,
Ernestine?--Five dollars?"

"Certainly! Since we've made my old black silk over, it looks so nice,
and I've nothing fit to wear around my neck. I'm sure its not much and
I'm going to work this winter, am I not?"

Bea turned her pillow over and laid her head down thoughtfully. Was
Ernestine selfish, or had she much heart? The question had often come
silently up, and been put as silently down, but now it lingered
persistently, though Bea moved her head restlessly, as if to get rid of
it. If Ernestine wanted anything, she left no avenue untried, and got it
if possible, no matter at whose expense or self-denial. All through
fifteen years of her life, she had kept a clear unfaltering eye on
herself, her wants, and her welfare, and after they were all supplied,
she was ready and willing to help any one else; but no one must ever
ask, or expect it at the exp