a troubled longing in her eyes.

"I wonder if I ever can," she murmured slowly. "How hard it is to be
patient, and wait, it's three months yet until I am sixteen, and they
never will let me I know, because it's too dangerous for a girl. I'm
sorry I am one anyhow; it makes everything go wrong. Now, there's my
money, I'm glad I've got it to give to papa. Dear papa, I don't believe
he or mama cares because I'm so ugly; I'll give it to him to-night, and
then while I'm waiting, I'll work and earn some more, so as to have
enough;" and, after ending this slightly enigmatical speech with an
abrupt nod, Olive looked a little brighter and fell to work so rapidly,
that she shaded a dimple until it looked like a bullet-hole in the cheek
of her fair subject.

Nothing further was heard for over an hour, then there came chattering
voices, the slam of the gate, much laughter, and much spattering and
crunching of gravel, that announced a race up the walk, between the
festive twins, for though Kat's disabled arm swung gracefully in a
sling, she had, after the first day or two, returned to all her romping
with undiminished ardor, thereby keeping the family in constant terror,
lest the necessary appendage be forever disabled. Jean had reported to
Bea, the fact that Olive had locked her door and was crying, and with
her conscience reproving her, Bea ran hastily up stairs, and knocked at
the door. "Olive, may I come in?"

"What for?"

"Well, just to talk a little," Bea replied, knowing better than to give
Jean's report.

Olive unlocked the door, after having first surveyed her face to see
that no tears were visible.

"Come in, if you want to; I'm drawing," and Bea accepted the ungracious
invitation, thinking to herself, as Olive straightway took her seat and
pencil, and returned to work--

"Now Olive's in one of her moods, I wonder if I can say anything," for
though not yet seventeen, Bea was womanly and thoughtful, and Mrs.
Dering had sometimes talked with her, about the unfortunate
peculiarities of this sister's disposition, and asked her help in being
patient, and trying to overcome it.

"We had a delightful time," began Bea, anxious to work aright. "'Prince'
was such a dear old fellow and Mr. Phillips so kind. I'm so sorry you
didn't go, Olive."

Nothing but pride kept Olive's face from brightening a little at this;
she turned away, made a fierce dab at her subject's nose, and thought
grimly:--"It's all very well to be sorry