k we'll
go."

"O, Desire, how nice!"

"That's it! One new word, or two, every time, and repeat. 'Now say
the five?' as Fay's Geography used to tell us."

"O, Desire Ledwith, how nice!"

"Good girl. Now, don't you think that Mrs. Geoffrey and Miss
Kirkbright would lend us pictures and things?"

"How little we seem to have seen of the Geoffreys lately! I mean,
all this spring, even before they went down to Beverly," said Hazel,
flying off from the subject in hand at the mention of their names.
"I wonder why it is fixed so, Des', that the _best_ people--those
you want to get nearest to--are so busy _being_ the best that you
don't get much chance?"

"Perhaps the chance is laid up," said Desire, thoughtfully. "I think
a good many things are. But to keep on, Hazel, about my plan. You
know those two beautiful girls who came in Sunday before last, and
joined Miss Kirkbright's class? Not _beautiful_, I don't mean
exactly,--though one of them was that, too; but real"--

"Splendid!" filled out Hazel. "Real ready-made sort of girls. As if
they'd had chapel all their lives, somehow. Not like first-Sunday
girls at all."

"One of them _was_ a chapel girl. Miss Kirkbright told me. She grew
up there till she was sixteen years old; then she went to live in
the country. Now I must have those two in, you see. I don't know but
Mr. Vireo would say it was making a feast for friends and neighbors,
if I pick out the ready-made. But this sort of thing--you must have
some reliance, you know; then there's something for the rest to come
to, and grow to. I think I shall begin about it before vacation,
while they're all together and alive to things. It takes so long to
warm up to the same point after the break. We might have one
meeting, just to organize, and make it a settled thing. O, how good
it will be when Mr. Vireo comes home!"

If I had not so many things to tell before my story can be at all
complete, I should like nothing better than to linger here in Desire
Ledwith's room, where there was so really "a beautiful east window,
and the morning had come in." I should like to just stay in the
sunshine of it, and show what the stir of it was, and what it had
come to with these two; what a brightness, day by day, they lived
in. I should be glad to tell their piece of the story minutely; but
I should not be able to get at it to tell. We may touch such lives,
and feel the lovely pleasantness; but to enter in, and have the
whole--that ma