."

And Natty's cup of happiness was full.

Penelope's Party Waist

"It's perfectly horrid to be so poor," grumbled Penelope. Penelope did
not often grumble, but just now, as she sat tapping with one
pink-tipped finger her invitation to Blanche Anderson's party, she
felt that grumbling was the only relief she had.

Penelope was seventeen, and when one is seventeen and cannot go to a
party because one hasn't a suitable dress to wear, the world is very
apt to seem a howling wilderness.

"I wish I could think of some way to get you a new waist," said Doris,
with what these sisters called "the poverty pucker" coming in the
centre of her pretty forehead. "If your black skirt were sponged and
pressed and re-hung, it would do very well."

Penelope saw the poverty pucker and immediately repented with all her
impetuous heart having grumbled. That pucker came often enough without
being brought there by extra worries.

"Well, there is no use sitting here sighing for the unattainable," she
said, jumping up briskly. "I'd better be putting my grey matter into
that algebra instead of wasting it plotting for a party dress that I
certainly can't get. It's a sad thing for a body to lack brains when
she wants to be a teacher, isn't it? If I could only absorb algebra
and history as I can music, what a blessing it would be! Come now,
Dorrie dear, smooth that pucker out. Next year I shall be earning a
princely salary, which we can squander on party gowns at will--if
people haven't given up inviting us by that time, in sheer despair of
ever being able to conquer our exclusiveness."

Penelope went off to her detested algebra with a laugh, but the pucker
did not go out of Doris' forehead. She wanted Penelope to go to that
party.

Penelope has studied so hard all winter and she hasn't gone anywhere,
thought the older sister wistfully. She is getting discouraged over
those examinations and she needs just a good, jolly time to hearten
her up. If it could only be managed!

But Doris did not see how it could. It took every cent of her small
salary as typewriter in an uptown office to run their tiny
establishment and keep Penelope in school dresses and books. Indeed,
she could not have done even that much if they had not owned their
little cottage. Next year it would be easier if Penelope got through
her examinations successfully, but just now there was absolutely not a
spare penny.

"It is hard to be poor. We are a pair of mis