en's advantage? They'll get
such educations, Mrs. Pepper, as you want for them. And it accommodates
me immensely. What obstacle can there be to it?"

"If I was only sure 'twas best?" said Mrs. Pepper doubtfully.

"Oh, dear Mrs. Pepper," said Mrs. Whitney, laying her hand on hers. "Can
you doubt it?"

"Then," said Mr. King, getting up, but still holding on to Phronsie,
"we'll consider it settled. This is your home, children," he said,
waving his hand at the five little Peppers in a bunch. And having thus
summarily disposed of the whole business, he marched out with Phronsie
on his shoulder.

POLLY'S DISMAL MORNING

Everything had gone wrong with Polly that day. It began with her boots.

Of all things in the world that tried Polly's patience most were the
troublesome little black buttons that originally adorned those useful
parts of her clothing, and that were fondly supposed to be there when
needed. But they never were. The little black things seemed to be
invested with a special spite, for one by one they would hop off on the
slightest provocation, and go rolling over the floor, just when she was
in her most terrible hurry, compelling her to fly for needle and thread
on the instant. For one thing Mrs. Pepper was very strict about--and
that was, Polly should do nothing else till the buttons were all on
again, and the boots buttoned up firm and snug.

"Oh dear!" said Polly, sitting down on the floor, and pulling on her
stockings. "There now, see that hateful old shoe, mamsie!" And she
thrust out one foot in dismay.

"What's the matter with it?" said Mrs. Pepper straightening the things
on the bureau. "You haven't worn it out already, Polly?"

"Oh no," said Polly, with a little laugh. "I hope not yet, but it's
these dreadful hateful old buttons!" And she twitched the boot off from
her foot with such an impatient little pull, that three or four more
went flying under the bed. "There now--there's a lot more. I don't care!
I wish they'd all go; they might as well!" she cried, tossing that boot
on the floor in intense scorn, while she investigated the state of the
other one.

"Are they all off?" asked Phronsie, pulling herself up out of a little
heap in the middle of the bed, and leaning over the side, where she
viewed Polly sorrowfully. "Every one, Polly?"

"No," said Polly, "but I wish they were, mean old things; when I was
going down to play a duet with Jasper! We should have had a good long
time befor