how much good it would do _you_."

Watching the unselfish life of her daughter had taught Mrs. Barlow to
forget her own regrets, inspired her with a desire to do her part, and
made her ashamed of her past indolence.

Happening to mention her maternal anxieties to Mrs. Tower, that good
lady suggested a plan by which the seemingly impossible became a fact,
and Mrs. Barlow had the pleasure of surprising Clara with a "bright
idea," as the girl had once surprised her.

"Come, dear, bestir yourself, for we must sail in ten days to pass our
summer in or near Paris. I've got commissions enough to pay our way,
and we can unite business and pleasure in the most charming manner."

Clara could only clasp her hands and listen, as her mother unfolded her
plan, telling how she was to get Maud's trousseau, all Mrs. Tower's
winter costumes, and a long list of smaller commissions from friends and
patrons who had learned to trust and value the taste and judgment of the
young _modiste_.

So Clara had her summer trip, and came home bright and blooming in the
early autumn, ready to take up her pretty trade again, quite unconscious
that, while trying to make others beautiful, she was making her own life
a very lovely one.

VIII.

HOW THEY CAMPED OUT.

"It looks so much like snow I think it would be wiser to put off your
sleighing party, Gwen," said Mrs. Arnold, looking anxiously out at the
heavy sky and streets still drifted by the last winter storm.

"Not before night, mamma; we don't mind its being cloudy, we like it,
because the sun makes the snow so dazzling when we get out of town. "We
can't give it up now, for here comes Patrick with the boys." And Gwen
ran down to welcome the big sleigh, which just then drove up with four
jolly lads skirmishing about inside.

"Come on!" called Mark, her brother, knocking his friends right and
left, to make room for the four girls who were to complete the party.

"What do you think of the weather, Patrick?" asked Mrs. Arnold from the
window, still undecided about the wisdom of letting her flock go off
alone, papa having been called away after the plan was made.

"Faith, ma'm, it's an illigant day barring the wind, that's a thrifle
could to the nose. I'll have me eye on the childer, ma'm, and there'll
be no throuble at all, at all," replied the old coachman, lifting a
round red face out of his muffler, and patting little Gus on the
shoulder, as he sat proudly on the high seat holdi