is great pleasure and means of
education to their daughters.

Even now, while they were hesitating to mention the matter, it was
already settled. Their parents had decided that, with the aid of a
portion of a small legacy which Mrs. Burnett had sacredly set aside for
her children, to be used only when some sufficient reason should offer,
enough money could be spared during the coming year to allow them to
accompany Mrs. Douglas.

As the sisters drew near the rambling, old-fashioned house, set back
from the street, which was their home, a pleasant welcome awaited them.
The father, who had just come from the stable to the piazza, the mother
and younger children,--Richard, Lois, Margaret, and little Bertie,--and
even the old dog, Dandy,--each had an affectionate greeting.

A quick look of intelligence passed between the parents as they saw the
flushed faces of their daughters, which so plainly told of unusual
excitement of feeling; but, saying nothing, they quietly led the way
into the dining room, where all gathered around the simple supper which
even the youngest could enjoy.

After the children had been put to bed, and the older ones of the family
were in the library, which was their evening sitting room, Bettina
looked anxiously at Barbara, who, after several attempts, succeeded in
telling the startling proposition which Mrs. Douglas had made, adding
that she should not dare to speak of it had she not promised Mrs.
Douglas to do so.

Imagine, if you can, the amazement, the flood of joyous surprise that
the girls felt as they realized, first, that to their parents it was not
a new, startling subject which could not for a moment be entertained;
then, that it was not only to be thought of, but planned for; and more,
that the going to Italy with Mrs. Douglas, Malcom, and Margery was to be
a reality, an experience that very soon would come into their lives, for
they were to sail in three weeks.

After the hubbub of talk that followed, it was a very subdued and quiet
pair of girls who kissed father and mother good night and went upstairs
to the room in which they had slept ever since their childhood. The
certain nearness of the first home-breaking, of the first going away
from their dear ones, and a new conception of the tenderness of the
parents, who were sacrificing so much for them, had taken such
possession of their hearts that they were too full for words. For
Barbara and Bettina were dear, thoughtful daughters a