t in our day. I worked the
bottom of a party dress a good quarter up, and Vandyke capes, and those
great big collars. And we tucked up to the waist. There's always
something. And those old Jewish women had broidery and finery of every
sort, and 'pillows' in their sleeves as we wore years ago. See what a
little it takes to make a pair of sleeves now! We must have looked
funny, all sleeves and waists up under our arms."

When you consider that sewing-machines had not been invented, it was a
wonder how the women accomplished so much. But they always had some
"catch-work" handy. The little girl was provided with a pretty
work-basket, six spools of cotton, a pincushion, a needle-book, a bit of
white wax, and an emery, which was a strawberry-shaped cushion topped
off with some soft green stuff she knew afterward was chenille. This was
to keep her needles bright and smooth. Then she had three rolls of
ruffling, yards and yards in each piece. One was cambric, one was fine
lawn or nainsook, and one of dimity. She had done some over-seam in
sheets, she had hemmed towels and some handkerchiefs, and sewed a little
on the half-dozen shirts Margaret had made for father last winter. But
the stitches had to be so small, and oh, so close together! Then they
looked badly if they were not straight. She liked the dimity the best
because the stitches seemed to sink in, and it ruffled so of itself.

But the little girl didn't sew all the time. She wiped dishes for
Martha. And one day, when she saw a little girl up the street sweeping
the sidewalk, she begged to do that. She could dust a room very nicely.
There was much running up and down, and she was always glad to wait
upon Steve. Indeed, she ran errands cheerfully for anybody. But she
_did_ miss Benny Frank and Jim.

Margaret had felt quite diffident about her new school, and at first
rather shrank from the young ladies, much as she desired to be among
them. But she found herself quite advanced in some of the studies, and
in a week's time began to feel at home. Two girls were very friendly,
Mary Barclay and Annette Beekman.

Perhaps Steve hadn't been quite as disinterested as it seemed. He had
met Dolly Beekman at Miss Jane Barclay's party early in the winter. They
had taken a mutual fancy. Old Peter Beekman lived at the lower end of
Broadway, and had a farm "up the East River," about Ninety-sixth Street.
He had five girls, and the two last had been sore disappointments. But
Harriet,