her sister's honest blue eyes.

I am not quite sure Mrs. Gray would have given the eggs to Dotty,
though Mrs. Parlin promised her several times the amount of hens' eggs
in return. Mrs. Gray did not think Dotty was "a very sociable child;"
and then so many people were asking for eggs! But Mrs. Gray could not
say "No" to Prudy; she gave her thirteen eggs, with a hearty kiss.

"Now whose will the ducklings be?" asked Dotty on the way home.

"Yours and mine," replied Prudy; "half and half. Six for each, and an
odd one over."

"Then," said Dotty, "we'll give that 'odd one over' to Katie."

"But they may not all hatch, Dotty."

"O, dear! why not? Then we can't tell how many we shall have. Perhaps
there will be two or three odd ones over; and _then_ what shall we do,
Prudy?"

Prudy laughed at the idea of "two or three odd ones." The eggs were put
in a barrel under the white hen; and now began a trial of patience. It
seemed to all the children that time stood still while they waited.
Would the four weeks never be gone?

One day Dottie stood with Katie by the back-door blowing bubbles. The
blue sky, the white fences, the green trees, and even the people who
passed in the street, made little pictures of themselves on the bubbles.
It was very beautiful. Dotty blew with such force that her cheeks were
puffed as round as rubber balls. Katie looked on in great delight.

"See," she cried, "see the trees a-yidin' on that bubbil!"

Dotty dropped the pipe and kissed her.

"Dear me," said she, the next minute, "there's Miss Polly coming!"

Katie looked along the path, and saw a forlorn woman tightly wrapped in
a brown shawl, carrying a basket on her arm, and looking sadly down at
her own calf-skin shoes, which squeaked dismally as she walked.

"Is um the Polly?" whispered Katie; "is um so tired?"

"No, she isn't tired," said Dotty; "but she feels dreadfully all the
whole time; I don't know what it's about, though."

By this time the new-comer stood on the threshold, sighing.

"How do you do, you pretty creeturs?" said she, with a dreary smile.

"Yes, 'um," replied Katie; "is you the Polly, and does you feel
drefful?"

The sad woman kissed the little girls,--for she was fond of
children,--sighed more heavily than ever, asked if their grandmother
was at home, and passed through the kitchen on her way to the parlor.

Mrs. Parlin sat knitting on the sofa, Mrs. Clifford was sewing, and Miss
Louise crocheting. They all lo