ueer costumes of years gone
by, and put up a splendid procession of ladies in full skirts, towering
hats, pointed slippers, powdered hair, simpering faces, and impossible
waists.

"I do think this bride is perfectly splendid, the long train and veil
are _so_ sweet," said Jill, revelling in fine clothes as she turned from
one plate to another.

"I like the elephants best, and I'd give anything to go on a hunt like
that!" cried Molly Loo, who rode cows, drove any horse she could get,
had nine cats, and was not afraid of the biggest dog that ever barked.

"I fancy 'The Dancing Lesson;' it is so sort of splendid, with the great
windows, gold chairs, and fine folks. Oh, I would like to live in
a castle with a father and mother like that," said Merry, who was
romantic, and found the old farmhouse on the hill a sad trial to her
high-flown ideas of elegance.

"Now, that ship, setting out for some far-away place, is more to my
mind. I weary for home now and then, and mean to see it again some
day;" and Mrs. Pecq looked longingly at the English ship, though it was
evidently outward bound. Then, as if reproaching herself for discontent,
she added: "It looks like those I used to see going off to India with a
load of missionaries. I came near going myself once, with a lady bound
for Siam; but I went to Canada with her sister, and here I am."

"I'd like to be a missionary and go where folks throw their babies to
the crocodiles. I'd watch and fish them out, and have a school, and
bring them up, and convert all the people till they knew better," said
warm-hearted Molly Loo, who befriended every abused animal and forlorn
child she met.

"We needn't go to Africa to be missionaries; they have 'em nearer home
and need 'em, too. In all the big cities there are a many, and they have
their hands full with the poor, the wicked, and the helpless. One can
find that sort of work anywhere, if one has a mind," said Mrs. Pecq.

"I wish we had some to do here. I'd so like to go round with baskets
of tea and rice, and give out tracts and talk to people. Wouldn't you,
girls?" asked Molly, much taken with the new idea.

"It would be rather nice to have a society all to ourselves, and have
meetings and resolutions and things," answered Merry, who was fond of
little ceremonies, and always went to the sewing circle with her mother.

"We wouldn't let the boys come in. We'd have it a secret society, as
they do their temperance lodge, and we'd have