m, and polished ivory bones as well; and
the brown bear climbed his pole, and eat buns; no one's mother left it
in the dark before the fire, with no one to tell it tales, and only a
kettle to talk to a person;" and Fluff curled herself up on her stool
with an affronted air.

The elder girl made no answer, but only stooped down and smilingly
lifted the child and kitten on her lap--she was very small and light
for her age--whereupon Fluff left off sighing, and rubbed her curly
head against her sister's shoulder with a contented air.

The sisters were certainly very unlike, Fluff being very small and
dark, while Fern was tall and fair; without being exactly gifted with
her mother's beauty, she had a charming face, soft gray eyes, and hair
of that golden-brown that one sees so often in English girls.

There were few people who did not think Fern Trafford decidedly
pretty; her features were not exactly regular, but her coloring was
lovely, and there was a joyousness and brightness about her that
attracted old and young; every one loved Fern, and spoke well of her,
she was so simple, so unselfish, so altogether charming, as they said.

Fern never complained of the narrowness of her life, never fretted
because their poverty excluded her from the pleasures girls of her age
generally enjoyed. From her childhood she had known no other life.
There were times when she remembered that she had gone to bed hungry,
times when her mother's face looked pinched and miserable--when her
father was dying, and they thought Baby Florence would die too.
Somehow Fern never cared to think of those days.

Fern was devoted to her mother, she clave to her with innocent love
and loyalty. Percy's defection had been the bitterest trouble of her
life. The girl nearly broke her heart when Percy left them. She grew
thin and pale and large-eyed, as girls will when they are fretting and
growing at the same time. Nea's motherly heart was touched with
compassion for her child. She wished, if possible, to suffer alone; if
it were in her power she would prevent the faintest shadow touching
that bright young life.

So she spoke to her in her calm, sensible way, for Nea was always
gentle with her children, and Fern was very dear to her--she had her
father's eyes, and Maurice's pure upright nature seemed transmitted to
his young daughter.

"Fern," she said, one evening when they were sitting together in the
twilight, "you must not add to my burdens; it mak