ce, in emphatic tones.

David opened the door into his own private quarters, which consisted of
a large workroom with a laboratory attached, where he had once worked on
chemical experiments until he had become interested in flying machines.

"Here they are," he exclaimed, walking over to a large table in the
workroom. "I have three models, you see, and each one works a little
better than the other. This last one, I believe, will do the business."
He pointed to a graceful little aeroplane made of bamboo sticks and rice
paper.

"Isn't it sweet?" exclaimed the girls in unison.

"And it has a name, too," continued David unabashed. "I've called her
'Anne,' because, while she's such a small, unpretentious-looking little
craft, she can soar to such heights. There is not room here to show you
how good she is, but we'll have another gymnasium seance some day soon,
Anne must come and see her namesake."

"There!" cried Grace in a tone of annoyance. "I have jagged a big place
in my dress, David Nesbit, on a nail in your table. Why do you have such
things about to destroy people's clothes?"

"But nobody who wears dresses ever comes in here," protested David,
"except mother and the maid, and they know better than to come near this
table. Can't I do something? Glue it together or mend it with a piece of
sticking plaster?"

"No, indeed," answered the girl. "Just get me a needle and thread,
please. I don't want to go downstairs with such a hideous rent in my
dress."

"Why, of course," assented David. "Why didn't I think of it sooner?
Mother will fix you up," and he opened the door into the hall and called
"mother!"

Mrs. Nesbit came hurrying in. She never waited to be called twice by her
son, who was the apple of her eye.

"My dear Grace," she exclaimed when she saw the tear, "this is too bad.
Come right into my room and I'll mend it for you."

So it happened that Grace was presently seated in an armchair in Mrs.
Nesbit's bedroom, while the good-natured woman whipped together the
jagged edges of the rent.

"What a beautiful box you have, Mrs. Nesbit," said Grace, pointing to a
large carved box on the dressing table.

"Do you like it?" replied the other. "I'm fond of it, probably because I
was so happy when I bought it years ago while traveling abroad with my
husband. It smells as sweet as it did when it was new," she added,
placing the box in Grace's lap.

Nora and Jessica, who had been hovering about the room, now cam