, I confess. But I suppose you'll say that I'm so
flighty I never notice anything."

"I never called you flighty, dear. You are of a lively disposition,
that's all."

"And you are a wee bit too much the other way, sister mine!" And then,
to take any sting out of the words, Alice rose from her chair with a
bound, crossed the room in a rush, and flung her arms about her sister,
embracing her heartily and kissing her.

"Oh, Alice!" protested the other. "You are crushing me!"

"I'm a regular bear, I suppose. Hark, is that daddy?"

They both listened, but the footsteps died away as before.

"Why are you so anxious?"

"I want some money, sister mine, and daddy promised to bring my moving
picture salary up with him. I wanted to do a little shopping before the
stores close. But I'm afraid it's too late now," the girl added,
ruefully. "Daddy said he'd be here in plenty of time, and he never
disappointed me before."

"Oh, if that's all you're worrying about, I'll lend you some money."

"Will you, really? Then I'll get ready and go. There's that little
French shop just around the corner. They keep open after the others.
Madame Morey is so thrifty, and there was the sweetest shirt waist in
the window the other day. I hope it isn't gone! I'll get ready at once.
You be getting out the money, Ruth, dear. Is there anything I can get
for you? It's awfully kind of you. Shall I bring back anything for
supper?"

"Gracious, what a rattlebox you're getting to be, Alice," spoke Ruth,
soberly, as she laid aside her sewing and went to the bureau for her
pocketbook.

"That's half of life!" laughed the younger girl. "Quick, Ruth, I want to
get out and get back, and be here when daddy comes. I want to hear all
about the new plans for taking moving picture plays. Is that the money?
Thanks! I'm off!" and the girl fairly rushed down the hall of the
apartment. Ruth heard her call a greeting to Mrs. Dalwood, who lived
across the corridor--a cheery greeting, in her fresh, joyous voice.

"Dear little sister!" murmured Ruth, as she sat with folded hands,
looking off into space and meditating. "She enjoys life!"

And certainly Alice DeVere did. Not that Ruth did not also; but it was
in a different way. Alice was of a more lively disposition, and her
father said she reminded him every day more and more of her dead
mother. Ruth had an element of romanticism in her character, which
perhaps accounted for her dreaminess at times. In the work of