g presents and therefore seldom used, and the glass
water pitcher and the small glass fruit saucers.

"Can't I help?" suggested Marjorie looking on with great interest.

"No," refused Linnet, decidedly, "you might break something as you did
the night Mrs. Rheid and Hollis were here."

"My fingers were too cold, then."

"Perhaps they are too warm, now," laughed Linnet.

"Then I can tell you about the primary colors; I suppose I won't break
_them_," returned Marjorie with her usual sweet-humor.

Linnet moved the spoon holder nearer the sugar bowl with the air of a
house wife, Marjorie stood at the table leaning both elbows upon it.

"If you remember _vibgyor_, you'll remember the seven primary colors!"
she said mysteriously.

"Is it like cutting your nails on Saturday without thinking of a fox's
tail and so never have the toothache?" questioned Linnet.

"_No_; this is earnest. It isn't a joke; it's a lesson," returned
Marjorie, severely. "Mr. Holmes said a professor told it to him when he
was in college."

"You see it's a joke! I remember _vibgyor_, but now I don't know the
seven primary colors. You are always getting taken in, Goosie! I hope
you didn't ask Mr. Woodfern if he is the man in _Pilgrim's Progress_."

"I know he isn't," said Marjorie, seriously, "there are a good many of
them, he said so. I guess _Pilgrim's Progress_ happened a long time ago.
I shan't look for Great-heart, any more," she added, with a sigh.

Linnet laughed and scrutinized the white handled knives to see if there
were any blemishes on the blades; her mother kept them laid away in old
flannel.

"Now, Linnet, you see it isn't a joke," began Marjorie, protestingly;
"the word is made of all the first letters of the seven colors,--just
see!" counting on her fingers, "violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow,
orange, red! Did you see how it comes right?"

"I didn't see, but I will as soon as I get time. You were not taken in
that time, I do believe. Did Mr. Woodfern ask you questions?"

"Not _that_ kind! And I'm glad he didn't. Linnet, I haven't any
'experience' to talk about."

"You are not old enough," said Linnet, wisely.

"Are you?"

"Yes, I have a little bit."

"Shall you tell him about it?" asked Marjorie curiously.

"I don't know."

"I wish I had some; how do you get it?"

"It comes."

"From where?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"Then you can't tell me how to get it," pleaded Marjorie.

"No," said Linnet, shaking her sunsh