t forth now and then.

"Don't you think it would be nice if she would let us have a visit from
Katharine Jackson for one of our presents?"

Katharine Jackson was the daughter of an army officer stationed at Fort
Edward in Buffalo. Her father and Ethel Blue's father had been in the
same class at West Point and her mother had known Ethel Blue's mother
who had died when she was a tiny baby. The two Ethels had had a week-end
with Katharine the previous summer, going to Buffalo from Chautauqua for
the purpose of spending a glorious Saturday at Niagara Falls.

"O-oh!" cried Ethel Brown, "that's one of the finest things you ever
thought of! Let's speak to Mother as soon as we go home and write to
Mrs. Jackson and Katharine this afternoon if she says 'yes'."

"I'm almost sure she will say 'yes'."

"So am I. If Katharine comes we can save all our Christmas festivities
for the time she's here so there'll be plenty to entertain her."

"Ayleesabet is waking. Hullo, sweet lamb," and both girls leaned over
the carriage, happy because their nursling condescended to smile on them
when she opened her eyes. Miss Merriam brought out a cup of warm food
when it was reported to her that her charge had finished her nap, and
when the luncheon was consumed with evidences of satisfaction the Ethels
took the carriage out on to the sidewalk. Elisabeth sat up, still
sleepy-eyed and rosy from her nap, and gazed about her seriously at the
road that was already becoming familiar.

"Oh, dear," sighed Ethel Blue under her breath, "there are the Misses
Clark coming out of their house."

"I hope they aren't going to complain of Roger," Ethel Brown said, for
Roger acted as furnace man for these elderly ladies who had gained for
themselves a reputation of being ill-natured.

"It's too late to cross the street. They look as if they were coming
expressly to speak to us. See, they haven't got their hats on."

It did indeed look as if the little procession was being waylaid, for
the Misses Clark stood inside their gate waiting for the Ethels to come
up.

"We saw you coming," they said when the carriage came near enough, "and
we came out to see the baby. This is the Belgian baby?"

"Yes; this is Ayleesabet."

"Ayleesabet? Elisabeth, I suppose. Why do you call her that?"

"That's what she calls herself, and it seems to be the only word she
remembers so we thought we'd let her hear it instead of giving her a new
name."

"Ayleesabet," repeated the