ense of her personal comfort or plenty. Yet
with her candies, the girls had lion shares; her pretty things,--and
somehow all of Ernestine's things were so pretty and graceful,--she
loaned willingly, and was never too tired or unwilling to help the
girls' dress on great occasions; for though Olive was the artist,
Ernestine had the artist's quick eye for graceful draping, harmony of
colors, and picturesque structures of hair. Moreover, she was always
good natured, nothing ever ruffled her, except for a passing moment, and
any hour of the day, you might hear her voice, just like a bird's,
filling the house with music, while her lovely face made sunshine; so it
came, that she received the credit for making home happy, when she did
it with no such intention, or exertion, only because she loved to sing,
and it was perfectly natural for her to be gay and untouched by
anything.

"I'm sure," she said, speaking suddenly, as Bea gave a restless twist to
her head. "You needn't, if you don't want to, Bea. Perhaps you want to
buy----"

"You know better," cried Bea, flying up from her rumpled pillow. "I
don't want to buy anything, and if you want to spend five dollars for a
lace scarf, why you're welcome to my money. That's all. Good night."

Next Sunday, when the girls went to church, Ernestine wore a cob-webby
scarf of ivory white over her "made-over" silk, and put a creamy day
lily in her yellow hair, and the girls looking at her, silently thought:
"No wonder papa calls her his picture!"

CHAPTER III.

A FOUNDATION THAT BROUGHT KAT TO GRIEF.

Slam! went the gate, knocking the dead leaves right and left, and whiz!
went two girls up the walk, like unruly sky-rockets, with the odd ends
flying. Rattle-de-tap, went four feet with steel-capped heels over the
old shady porch, and bang! went the door back against the wall;
then:----

"Mama,----"

"Bea,--Er,----"

"Nestine, Olive,----"

"Jean, hurry;--let me tell first. Miss----"

"I beat to the steps, I ought to tell," shrieked Kat, as Kittie choked
for breath. "Miss Howard is going to give us a,----"

"Nutting party!" shouted Kittie, with a triumphant breath. "Hurrah,
three cheer-r-s!"

"Mercy on me," cried a voice from up stairs. "What is the matter; what
are you doing?"

"Kittie's dancing a jig, and Kat's sliding down the bannisters,"
exclaimed a horrified voice from somewhere else. "Mercy! Bea, call mama;
I think they've gone crazy."

"Nutting party," crie