ounterpart of her own
room, even to the new nightdress,--only Dolly's had a white ribbon.

"You might have had green," said Dotty, doubtfully.

"No, I don't like coloured ribbons in my underclothes. They're all right
for you," Dolly added politely, "but I never did like them."

"Now I'll say _my_ piece;" and Dotty bowed to her audience of one. "I
haven't forgotten it, but it's very short.

"Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a girl healthy and wealthy and wise.

"Thank you, sweet friend and playmate, now go I with thee."

"No; _you_ don't say that! You've _been_ with me. Now, I go home and we
both get ready for bed. When you're all ready, put out your light and--"

"Yes, I know."

Dotty scampered downstairs and over home, and fairly flew up to her
room.

In less than twenty minutes Dotty was all ready for bed; she put out
her light, and throwing a dressing-gown over her nightdress, she sat in
the window, watching the light in Dolly's room.

She waited and waited, but the light behind the pulled-down shade
remained.

"H'm!" said Dotty to herself, yawning, "she is the _slowest_ thing! I
could have undressed twice in this time!"

But at last, Dolly's light went out, and her shade was slowly raised.

Then, according to their plan, Dotty flashed her light on and off again.
Dolly's light repeated this manoeuvre. Then Dotty did it again, and
then Dolly did. The third time the flashes came and went, and then all
ceremonies over, the two girls went to their new pretty, inviting beds,
and were very soon asleep.

CHAPTER IV

THE BIRTHDAY MORNING

Dotty Rose woke early next morning, and, wide-awake on the instant,
sprang from her bed and flew to the window. But she could see nothing of
Dolly. The white shades were down and there was no sign of any one
stirring. Dotty turned back and began anew to look at her pretty
belongings. On the dressing-table she spied something she had not seen
there the night before. It was a lovely picture of Dolly in a beautiful
silver frame. Dotty laughed outright, for that was exactly what she had
given Dolly! A silver frame with her own picture in it. The two mothers
had been in the secret, and had seen to it that the frames were alike,
but neither of the girls knew that her gift was to be duplicated.

It was a perfect likeness, showing Dolly at her best; a dreamy
expression on her sweet face, and her soft hair in little waves at her
temples, and drawn back by an eno