s the wickedest thing! But you were
just as good as you could be, if you _did_ trim the church; and I'll
never do so again!"

"Oh, hush, dear; you shake the bed."

"I'm real bad in here, in my s-o-ul!" wailed Flaxie, squeezing her
eyelids together tight, and laying her hand on her stomach. "Why don't
God make me beautiful inside o' my soul?"

"Ask Him, dear child!"

"Will He?" said Flaxie, earnestly. "Oh, yes, I know;" and her eager face
fell. "But He'll have to make me homely to do it, just like Miss Pike."

"Oh, no, my darling."

"Won't He? See what a orful cole-sore I've got on my mouth. If it would
stay there, and stick on always, do you s'pose I'd grow good?" asked
Flaxie, thoughtfully.

Aunt Charlotte almost smiled.

"'Cause I'm willing to be a little homely,--now truly--if I can have a
nice so-o-ul," added the child, with a true and deep feeling of her own
naughtiness that I am sure the angels must have been glad to see.

But she was shaking the bed again, and Uncle Ben drew her gently away,
and took her down stairs in his arms to finish the rest of her "crazy
Christmas."

CHAPTER IX.

MILLY VISITING.

Winter passed, spring came, and April was half over before the twin
cousins met again. Then it was Milly's turn to go to Laurel Grove to see
Flaxie. She had written a postal-card slowly, and with great pains, to
say "she should be there to-morrow if it was pleasant."

But how it did rain! It had rained for two days as if the sky meant to
pour itself away in tears; but on Wednesday the sun came rushing through
the clouds, his face all aglow with smiles, and put an end to such
dismal business. The rain ceased, the clouds scampered away and hid
themselves, and the sky cleared up as bright as if nothing had ever been
the matter.

Sweet little Milly looked out of the window, heard the birds sing, and
whispered in her heart:

"Oh, how kind God is to give me a good day to go to Laurel Grove!"

She didn't own a pretty valise of brown canvas with leather straps like
Flaxie's. All in the world she had was an old bandbox trunk that
belonged to her mother, and she took no care of that, for Milly never
"travelled alone."

"Well, little sobersides," said her father, putting the check in his
pocket, the ticket in his hat, and opening a car-window before he sat
down beside Milly. "Well, little sobersides, are you glad you're going
visiting?"

"Yes, sir," said she, her eyes shining. She didn't laugh