mely a minute,--only "a beautiful
homely," that is ever and ever so much better than handsome;--and the
little girls fairly adored her.

Now Flaxie was quick to learn, but as a general thing she didn't study
very hard, I am obliged to confess. When she couldn't spell her lessons
she said to Milly, "It's 'cause you don't have the same kind of books we
have where I live. The words look so queer in your books!"

If Flaxie was noisy at Laurel Grove, what was she at Hilltop? Sometimes
in the evening, when she played the piano and sang, Aunt Charlotte was
really afraid she would disturb Mrs. Hunter, who lived in the other half
of the house.

"Oh, I like it," said Mrs. Hunter, pleasantly; "but don't you think,
Mrs. Allen, there is danger of her pounding your piano in pieces?"

But by and by there wasn't so much time for music and play. The busy
season had begun, when everybody was making ready for Christmas; and the
twin cousins had as much as they could do in talking over what they were
_going_ to do, as they sat in each other's lap and looked at their
work-baskets.

Flaxie wanted to make a marvellous silk bedquilt for her dear mamma out
of pieces as big as a dollar; but, finding there wouldn't be time for
that, concluded to buy her a paper of needles, "if it didn't cost too
much."

Probably there wouldn't have been anything done but talking if Aunt
Charlotte hadn't brought out some worsteds and canvas and set the
helpless little ones at work upon a holder called the "Country Cousin."
They had a hard time over this young lady, and almost wished sometimes
that she had never been born; but she turned out very brilliant at last,
in a yellow skirt, red waist, and blue bonnet, with a green parasol over
her head. After this they had courage to make some worsted balls for the
babies, some cologne mats for their brothers who never used cologne, and
some court-plaster cases for somebody else, with the motto, "I stick to
you when others cut you."

Both the children were tired with all this labor, and Flaxie discovered,
after her presents were packed and ready to send off by express, that
she didn't feel very well.

"My throat is so sore I can't _swoler_,"--so she wrote on a postal to
her mother; for when she was sick she wanted everybody to know it.

Before Aunt Charlotte heard of the sad condition of her throat, she had
said she might go with Milly and Johnny and some of the older children
in the village, to see the ladies