bread and coffee for this
morning?"

"I suppose I'll have to," answered Olive, none too graciously, and shut
the door again with a snap.

"Cross-patch, draw the latch, sit at the fire and spin," sang Kat; then
the door opened again, and Ernestine came in.

"Dear me, how cold it is in here, and Bea hasn't got the sitting-room
fire built either. I'd just as soon be out doors."

"Go on, and let's see how long you'll stay," said Kat, shaking an egg
into her coffee. "If the fires don't get along fast enough to suit you,
pitch in and build one of them; there's piles of difference between that
and standing around watching some one else."

Ernestine chose to ignore the remark, and stood warming her fingers,
while she contemplated the frosty window-pane.

"To-day's lesson-day, so of course I hate it," she said, with an air of
settled resignation. "I never thought I'd teach music, that's sure. I
never was cut out for it, so neither the children, nor I, get along
well. Is there anything I can do to help out here?"

"No, breakfast is ready; just trot the bread in to the table. I'll bring
the butter, and the coffee will be done in a few minutes; that's all
we've got for breakfast this morning," said Kat, vanishing down the
cellar stairs.

"I could eat two hundred and fifty griddle cakes, I know!" exclaimed
Kittie, as they collected about the table, and Bea began rattling the
cups, and the bread started around.

"Come down a hundred and seventy-five," laughed Ernestine who had taken
time, despite all depressing circumstances, to twist a rose-colored
ribbon in her sunny hair. "I believe it's going to snow real hard; don't
I wish those children wouldn't come to-day. You all can't imagine how
horrible it is to teach music."

"Well, you have the easiest time of any of us," said Kittie.

"You ought to cook and wash dishes awhile," cried Kat.

"Or keep the house," added Bea.

"Or have to stay all day long in the dreariest store in town and keep
books," echoed Olive.

"I thought you loved to work so?" said Ernestine, in answer to this last
comparison. "You're always preaching independence."

"So I do," answered Olive, setting her cup down with crackable force. "I
never would be idle, but I could choose more pleasant kind of work than
sitting in Mr. Dane's office all day; it's the dreariest place I ever
got into."

"Well, anyhow, Christmas is coming," said Bea, nodding cheerfully over
the coffee-urn.

"More's the pity,