hair, parted in the middle, combed back of her ears, and cut
square across the neck, but the ends had some curly twists.

Certainly children are dressed prettier nowadays. The little girl's
frock was green with tiny rivulets of yellow meandering over it. They
made islands and peninsulas and isthmuses of green that were odd and
freaky. Mrs. Underhill had bought it to join her sashwork quilt, and
there was enough left to make the little girl a frock. It had the merit
of washing well, but it gave her a rather ghostly look. It had a short,
full waist with shoulder straps, making a square neck, a wide belt, and
a skirt that came down to the tops of her shoes, which were like Oxford
ties. Though she was not rosy she had never been really ill, and only
stayed at home two weeks the previous winter at the worst of the
whooping-cough, which nobody seemed to mind then. But it must have made
a sort of Wagner chorus if many children coughed at once.

"I had a very nice time in New York," she began, with grave approbation,
when she had considered for some seconds. "The museum was splendid! And
the houses seem sociable-like. Don't you suppose they nod to each other
when the folks are asleep? And the stores are so--so--" she tried to
think of the longest word she knew--"so magnificent? Aunt Patience and
Aunt Nancy were so nice. And the cat was perfectly white and sat in Aunt
Nancy's lap. There was a little girl next door who had a big doll and a
cradle and a set of dishes, and we had tea together. I'd like to have
some dishes. Do you think Uncle Faid is coming back?" she asked
suddenly.

"I believe he is, this time. And if we get very homesick we shall have
to come back and live with him."

"I shouldn't be homesick with you and mother and the boys, and Steve and
Joe. It would be nice to have Dobbin and Prince, but the stores are on
the corners instead of going to the village, and its nice and queer to
ride in the omnibuses and hand your money up through the roof. The
drivers must have an awful sight when night comes."

They even said "awful" in those far-back days, they truly did.

Father Underhill laughed and squeezed the little girl with a fondness
she understood very well.

Just then a voice called rather sharply: "'Milyer! 'Milyer!" and he sat
the little girl down on the stool as carefully as if she had been china.
He put another kiss in the little dent, and she gave him a tender smile.

His whole name was Vermilye Fowler U