ommendations appeared at that moment, and Mrs. Caroll
was immediately absorbed in the consumption of a large pink ice.

"That girl is what I call a surprise-party, now," remarked Mr. Joe
confidentially to his cigar, as he pulled off his coat and stuck his
feet up in the privacy of his own apartment. "She looks as mild as
strawberries and cream till you come to the complimentary, then she
turns on a fellow with that deused satirical look of hers, and makes
him feel like a fool. I'll try the moral dodge to-morrow and see what
effect that will have; for she is mighty taking, and I must amuse
myself somehow, you know."

"How many years will it take to change that fresh-hearted little girl
into a fashionable belle, I wonder?" thought Frank Evan, as he climbed
the four flights that led to his "sky-parlor."

"What a curious world this is!" mused Debby, with her nightcap in her
hand. "The right seems odd and rude, the wrong respectable and easy,
and this sort of life a merry-go-round, with no higher aim than
pleasure. Well, I have made my Declaration of Independence, and Aunt
Pen must be ready for a Revolution if she taxes me too heavily."

As she leaned her hot cheek on her arm, Debby's eye fell on the quaint
little cap made by the motherly hands that never were tired of working
for her. She touched it tenderly, and love's simple magic swept the
gathering shadows from her face, and left it clear again, as her
thoughts flew home like birds into the shelter of their nest.

"Good night, mother! I'll face temptation steadily. I'll try to take
life cheerily, and do nothing that shall make your dear face a
reproach, when it looks into my own again."

Then Debby said her prayers like any pious child, and lay down to dream
of pulling buttercups with Baby Bess, and singing in the twilight on
her father's knee.

The history of Debby's first day might serve as a sample of most that
followed, as week after week went by with varying pleasures and
increasing interest to more than one young debutante.

Mrs. Carroll did her best, but Debby was too simple for a belle, too
honest for a flirt, too independent for a fine lady; she would be
nothing but her sturdy little self, open as daylight, gay as a lark,
and blunt as any Puritan. Poor Aunt Pen was in despair, till she
observed that the girl often "took" with the very peculiarities which
she was lamenting; this somewhat consoled her, and she tried to make
the best of the prett