to the choir.

So the days flew by and the summer slipped away; autumn had gone and
winter, almost, before they realised it, so full were their days with
their lessons and their singing, their housework and gardening, walks on
the moor, and games and play. By degrees, as Miss Charlotte had foretold,
each had made a little niche for herself. Esther had obtained almost
complete charge of the drawing-room--no one else dusted it or arranged a
flower in it. Penelope sometimes tried to find room in it for one of her
pet plants, but unless permission was asked, and Esther chose the place
where it might stand, the treasure was certain to be found 'in the way.'

She dusted their own bedrooms, too, and helped to make the beds, and did
lots of other little duties; and at Christmas, to her great delight,
Miss Charlotte had given her the much-longed-for sleeves and aprons.

Angela had become, meantime, almost sole mistress of the hens and the
eggs. She had begun by just collecting the eggs, and washing and marking
them, and she did her work so well that no one else ever thought of
troubling about them; and before very long, to her enormous pride, she was
given the task of packing them for market. And oh! the joy of it! the
pleasure she took in laying the rich brown and creamy-white eggs in cosy
nests in the sweet-smelling hay; her pride in their appearance! The only
flaw in her happiness was the fact that she could not carry the basket and
dispose of the contents herself to the customers. She pictured herself
turning back the snow-white cloth from the top of the basket, and counting
out her beloved treasures one by one.

After that she began to feed the fowls, and keep account of the corn that
was used, and the number of eggs that were laid. Anna consulted her quite
gravely about the house scraps.

Perhaps, though, the very happiest day of all her life, at any rate the
proudest, was that on which Fluffikins laid her first egg. Angela, when
she saw it and the little hen strutting up and down before the nest in
which it lay, stood in a kind of speechless ecstasy, much as a young
author when his first work has been accepted, or an artist before his
first completed picture. Then she held out her arms to the proud
Fluffikins, who mounted to her shoulder, clucking happily; and, rubbing
their cheeks against one another, they gazed ecstatically at the precious
egg.

"Oh, Fluff, I _am_ so sorry to take it from you," she cried, "b