can ask
Minnie; she heard her say I could have company. She doesn't know you,
you see, so she _couldn't_ say that you were the one to come. She told
me 'some little girl.'"

"That sounds all right," said Helen. "I will go tell mother. She was not
sure I ought to come." She disappeared once more through the little
gate, and Rosanna waited. She was not happy. Her grandmother had
certainly not named any little girl, but Rosanna knew that she did not
mean or intend that Rosanna should entertain the little girl who lived
over the garage. Her grandmother thought every one was all right if they
belonged to an old family. The first thing she ever asked Rosanna about
any little girl was "What is her family?" or "Who are her people?"

Rosanna, whose conscience was troubling her in a queer way, determined
to ask Helen about her family, although it seemed that was one of the
things that were not very nice to do. But perhaps Helen had a family. In
that case she could settle everything happily.

The children joined hands and went skipping along the path toward the
playhouse, Helen's bobbed yellow locks shining in the sun and Rosanna's
long, heavy, dark hair swinging from side to side as she danced along.

She led the way through the little door into the little living-room of
the playhouse and stood aside as Helen cried out with wonder and
pleasure.

"Oh, oh, oh, Rosanna!" the little girl exclaimed. "Oh, it is too dear!
May I please look at everything, just as though it was in a picture
book?"

Helen moved from one place to another in a sort of daze. She tried the
little wicker chairs one after another. She sat at the tiny desk and
touched the pearl penholders and the pencils with Rosanna's name printed
on them in gold letters. All the letter paper said _Rosanna_ in gold
letters at the top too; it was beautiful.

The little piano was real. It played delightfully little tinkly notes
almost like hitting the rim of a glass with a lead pencil. Helen was
charmed. She could scarcely drag herself away to see the other wonders
of the playhouse. The little dining-room was built with a bay window,
which had a window seat, and a hanging basket of ferns. The little round
table, the sideboard and the chairs were all painted a soft cream color,
and on each chair back, and the sideboard drawers and doors sprays of
tinty, tiny flowers were painted.

Helen hurried from these splendors to the kitchen. And it was a real
kitchen!

"If our do