n with her?"

The President shook his head. "She is too young to know what is best for
her, and we cannot raise false hopes in her heart. She has suffered too
much already to be disappointed again--should the operation fail to
accomplish the desired results."

"But how are you going to get her to Fairview without her knowing?" Hope
frowned in bewilderment.

"O, she will have to know about the operation, but not what we hope will
result. Hark! Don't I hear her calling?"

Just then the library door opened behind them, and Marie announced young
Dr. Shumway.

"Right on time," said the President, consulting his watch, "and your
patient is just now awake. Will you tell her, doctor? We have decided to
take the chance, but think you will make a better job of breaking the
news to her."

"Very well," replied the doctor promptly, not pausing to meet the other
members of the family. "I'll go right on up."

So he mounted the stairs to the Flag Room, wondering how he should
broach the subject to the small maid soon to become his patient, but she
gave him no chance for speech, for the instant she saw him bending over
her, she exclaimed, "I dreamed about you last night,--the queerest
dream!"

"You did! Well now, isn't that strange! I dreamed about you, too."

"O, tell me your dream," she commanded, delighted at his words.

"You first, my girl. Then you shall hear mine."

"Well, I thought I was on a hard, hard bed in the middle of a great, big
room, and all around the room were rows and rows of shelves, just like
the pickle closet in our Parker cellar. They were empty at first, but
just as I was beginning to wonder what they were all for, I noticed a
funny little hump-backed man sitting in one corner, dangling his legs
over the edge of the shelf, and when I asked him who he was, he said he
was one of my naughties. I didn't know what he meant, so he 'xplained
that he was the bad spirit inside of me, which painted Mr. Hardman's
barn once when I got mad at him. Then all of a sudden, I saw that the
shelves were full,--just plumb full of people. Some were little and
ugly, like the hump-back, and some were big and beautiful. The big ones
were the goodies I had done. There was the time I sang for the
hand-organ man, and the time I gave my circus money to the miss'nary,
and the time I took the sick monkey home, and the time I carried
pansies to my Lilac Lady, and--oh, crowds of 'em. But I 'most believe
there were more naughties th