your tongue, Betty," said Moppet primly, with
a roguish twinkle of her eyes upward. "Miss Bidwell says mine is an
unruly member, and told me a most dire tale of a little girl whose
mother for punishment pricked her tongue with a hot bodkin."

"Ugh!" cried Sally, with a shudder, "that was in Puritan days, truly."

"I do not crave the hot bodkin," said Betty, laughing. "Miss Bidwell's
tales are a trifle gruesome, Moppet."

"But I always do love a flimming tale, Betty" (this was Moppet's
invariable rendering of the word "thrilling," which her lips had never
yet conquered), "and some of them are most bloody ones, I assure you.
Oh, Betty, Betty, what _shall_ I do when you are gone!" and with a
sudden realization of her loss, Moppet gave a quick sob which went to
Betty's heart.

"Nay, sweetheart, be a brave little maid," she answered, fighting a
small lump in her own throat. "I would I could take you with me; but as
I cannot, you must hasten to learn how to make better pot-hooks and
write me letters, which Aunt Euphemia will forward with hers. And,
Moppet, I think I shall give you in special charge to Sally; how will
that please you?"

"I love Sally," said the child simply, as the tender-hearted Sally knelt
down beside her. "Will you help console me with my primer and that
altogether dreadful sampler when my Betty is away?"

"Indeed will I," replied Sally, much amused with Moppet's view of the
sampler; "and you shall come and see me every fine day, and the wet ones
I am sure to be here with Pamela, who has proclaimed her intention of
adopting me when Betty goes. And now I must be going, for it is nearly
the dinner hour, and my mother says as I have dined here three days she
bespeaks my presence for one out of four. So farewell until to-morrow,
Betty, when I shall be here to see you start upon your travels."

Betty was busy enough all that day; indeed, nothing more than a confused
recollection remained with her afterward of trunk and two small boxes to
be packed; of Pamela's urging her acceptance of a new lute-string slip,
rose-colored, which had recently come to her from Boston; of Miss
Bidwell's innumerable stockings all tucked carefully away in one corner
of the hair-covered brass-nailed box, and even Miss Moppet's tenderly
cherished blue bag embroidered in steel beads, which had belonged to
their mother, but which Moppet insisted could be used by Betty with
great effect for her handkerchief at a ball.

"Ball, inde