s--both of us. I have my new buggy and silver-mounted harness. You
must go out and christen it for good luck. Hurry, Peggy, and put on your
white dress."

Miss Blackfan had been again and made them two white frocks apiece. The
little girl had "wings" over her shoulders and they made her less slim.
She wore a pink sash and her hair was tied with pink. Her stockings were
as white as "the driven snow," and her slippers looked like dolls' wear.
They were bronze and laced across the top several times with narrow
ribbon tied in a bow at her instep. She had a new hat, too, a leghorn
flat with pale pink roses on it. It cost a good deal, but then it would
"do up" every summer and last years and years. Fashions didn't change
every three months then. Margaret had a pretty gipsy hat, with a big
light-blue satin bow on the top, and the strings tied under her chin,
and it made quite a picture of her. Her sleeves came a little below the
elbow, and both wore black silk "openwork" mitts that came half-way up
the arm.

There had been a shower the night before and the dust was laid. They
went over Second Street to the East River, where one or two blocks were
quite given over to colored people. There was an African M. E. church,
that the little girl was very curious to see. Folks said in revival
times they danced for joy. Crowds used to go to hear the singing.

"But do they dance?" asked the little girl wonderingly. She couldn't
quite reconcile it with the gravity of worship.

"They simply march up and down the aisles keeping time to the tunes.
Well--the Shakers dance in the same fashion." Stephen had been up to
Lebanon.

Then a little farther on was another Methodist church, where several
notable lights had preached. Nearer the river were some queer old
houses, and at almost every corner a store. Saloons were a rarity. Over
yonder was Williamsburg, up a little farther Astoria, just a place of
country greenery. There were a few boats going up and down, and the
ferry-boats crossing.

The houses were no longer in rows. There were some vegetable gardens,
and German women were weeding in them; then tracts of rather rocky land,
wild and unimproved. After a while it began to grow more diversified and
beautiful--country residences and well-kept grounds full of shrubbery at
the front and vegetables in the rear, with barns and stables, betraying
a rural aspect. The air was so sweet and fresh.

"Oh!" exclaimed Margaret, "Annette Beekman must