m."

At this point there was a faint little knock at the door, and Eurie
sprang to open it, saying as she went: "That is Flossy, I know; she
always gives just such little pussy knocks as that." The little lady who
entered fitted her name perfectly. She was small and fair, blue-eyed,
flossy yellow curls lying on her shoulders, her voice was small and
sweet, almost too sweet or too soft, that sort of voice that could
change when slight occasion offered into a whine or positive
tearfulness. She was greeted with great glee by Eurie, and in her more
quiet way by Miss Erskine.

"_I'm_ going," she said, with a soft little laugh, and she sank down
among the cushions of the sofa, while her white morning dress floated
around her like a cloud. "Charlie thinks it is silly, and Kit thinks it
is sillier, and mamma thinks it is the very silliest thing I ever did
yet; but for all that I am going--that is, if the rest of you are."
Which, by the way, was always this little Flossy's manner of speech. She
was going to do or not to do, speak or keep silent, approve or condemn,
exactly as the mind which was for the time being nearest to her chose to
sway her.

"Good!" said Eurie, softly clapping her hands. "I didn't think it of
you, Flossy; I thought you were too much of a mouse. Now, Ruth, you will
go, won't you? As for Marion, there is no knowing whether she will go
or not. I don't see now she can afford it myself any more than I can;
but, of course, that is her own concern. We can go anyway, whether she
does or not--only I don't want to, I want her along. Suppose we all go
down and see her; it is Saturday, she will be at home, and then we can
begin to make our preparations. It is really quite time we were sure of
what we are going to do."

By dint of much coaxing and argument Ruth was prevailed upon to leave
her fascinating brown hat with its brown velvet trimmings, and in the
course of the next half hour the trio were on their way down Park
Street, intent on a call on Miss Marion Wilbur. Park Street was a
simple, quiet, unpretending street, narrow and short; the houses were
two-storied and severely plain. In one of the plainest of these, wearing
an unmistakable boarding-house look, in a back room on the second floor,
the object of their search, in a dark calico dress, with her sleeves
rolled above her elbows, had her hands immersed in a wash-bowl of suds,
and was doing up linen collars. She was one of those miserable creatures
in th