manding admittance.

Indoors the heavy red hangings were drawn over the lace draperies, great
logs blazed in the fireplaces, while over all softly shaded lights gave
an air of cozy comfort that made one feel sheltered and safe from the
storm.

A group of ladies sat chatting together, and one, a recent arrival, was
saying that she had understood that children were not permitted as
guests at the Cleverton.

"There are only a few children here," Mrs. Vinton said, "and some of
them are charming."

"While others are _not_?" questioned the stranger, with an odd smile.

"I'd rather not say just that," Mrs. Vinton said, "but I will say that
Mrs. Dainty's little daughter, and Dorothy's little friend, Nancy, and
Flossie Barnet, are three of the sweetest children I have ever met. My
stay here is brighter and far pleasanter because they are also here."

"Dorothy Dainty is an unusually fine singer for a child," another lady
said, "and she is to sing for us to-night. I believe Nancy Ferris is to
do something, but I do not know what. Does any one know if Nancy sings?"

"I've not the least idea what her talent is," said a pleasant-voiced
matron, "but she is such a bright, interesting child that I feel sure
that whatever she is able to do at all, she will do exceedingly well."

"Aunt Vera is to play a solo for the first number," said little Flossie
Barnet, to a lady who sat near her.

"That is delightful," said the lady, "and what are you to do?"

"Oh, I'll listen, and listen," said Flossie, "and then, I'll clap to
show how much I liked what the people did."

"And your friend Dorothy is to sing," said the lady, "do you know what
Nancy does?"

"Oh, yes, I do!" cried Flossie, "and she does it so lovely, you'll
wonder how she could! I'm not to tell _what_ she'll do, none of us are
to tell. You'll _see_ when she does it!"

"Dear little girl, you seem quite as happy as if you were to be a
soloist," said the lady.

"Why, yes," said Flossie, "for when the other little girls do pretty
things, I see them, but I couldn't see myself do anything!"

"Oh, you sweet, funny little girl," the pleasant-faced lady said, as she
drew Flossie closer, "I never knew so dear a child."

"Dorothy and Nancy are dear," said Flossie, "and oh, you haven't seen
Molly Merton! She's another one of my little friends, and she's _always_
lovely to play with. We're always together when I'm at home at
Merrivale."

Before the lady could express regret tha