med it. We couldn't think of anything
appropriate. Carol suggested 'Prudence Shade,' but I couldn't bring
myself to accept that. Of course, Mrs. Adams, you understand how
parsonage people do with clothes,--handing them down from generation
unto generation. Well, I didn't mind it at first,--when I was the
biggest. But all of a sudden Fairy grew up and out and around, and one
day when I was so nearly out of clothes I hardly felt that I could
attend church any more, she suggested that I cut an old one of hers
down for me! At first I laughed, and then I was insulted. Fairy is
three years younger than I, and before then she had got my
handed-downs. But now the tables were turned. From that time on,
whenever anything happened to Fairy's clothes so a gore had to be cut
out, or the bottom taken off,--they were cut down for me. I still feel
bitter about it. Fairy is dark, and dark blues are becoming to her.
She handed down this dress,--it was dark blue then. But I was not
wanting a dark blue, and I thought it would be less recognizable if I
gave it a contrasting color. I chose lavender. I dyed it four times,
and this was the result."

"Do the twins dress alike?" inquired Mrs. Adams, when she could control
her voice.

"Yes,--unfortunately for Connie. They do it on purpose to escape the
handed-downs! They won't even have hair ribbons different. And the
result is that poor Connie never gets one new thing except shoes. She
says she can not help thanking the Lord in her prayers, that all of us
outwear our shoes before we can outgrow them.--Connie is only nine.
Fairy is sixteen, and the twins are thirteen. They are a very clever
lot of girls. Fairy, as I told you, is just naturally smart, and aims
to be a college professor. Lark is an intelligent studious girl, and
is going to be an author. Carol is pretty, and lovable, and
kind-hearted, and witty,--but not deep. She is going to be a Red Cross
nurse and go to war. The twins have it all planned out. Carol is
going to war as a Red Cross nurse, and Lark is going, too, so she can
write a book about it, and they are both going to marry
soldiers,--preferably dashing young generals! Now they can hardly wait
for war to break out. Connie is a sober, odd, sensitive little thing,
and hasn't decided whether she wants to be a foreign missionary, or get
married and have ten children.--But they are all clever, and I'm proud
of every one of them."

"And what are you goi