he night. I don't see what's getting
into Boston! Places that were good enough twenty year ago are only fit
for tramps, and decent people have to get out of the way, whether they
will or no."

Betty came home the last of March. She looked taller--perhaps it was
because she wore her dresses so long and her hair so high. She had a
pretty new frock--a rich warm brown ground, with little flowers in green
and yellow and a kind of dull red sprinkled all over it. It had come
from New York, and was called delaine. She had discarded her homespun
woolen. And, oh, how stylishly pretty she was, quite like the young
ladies at Madam Royall's!

She held Doris to her heart and almost smothered her, kissing her
fondly.

"You have grown lovely by the minute!" she cried. "I was so afraid
someone would cut your hair. 'Lecty said at first that I had only one
idea, and that was Doris Adams, I talked about you so much. And she's
wild to see you. She's quite grand and full of fun, altogether different
from Mary. Mary holds onto every penny until I should think she'd pinch
it thin. And I've had the most magnificent time, though Hartford is
nothing compared to Boston. It is like a country place where you know
everybody that is at all worth knowing. I have such lots of things to
tell you."

It came rather hard to take up the old routine of work, and get up early
in the morning. She was dismayed by the news that Aunt Priscilla was
coming and Doris going.

"Though I don't know," she declared after reflecting a day or two on the
subject. "I'll have such a good excuse to go to Uncle Win's, and we can
have delightful talks. But Aunt Priscilla is certainly a dispensation of
Providence equal to St. Paul's thorn in the flesh."

"I've made her some visits this winter, and she has been real nice,"
said Doris. "I shouldn't mind her at all now. And I told Uncle Win that
I would like to be two little girls, so one _could_ stay here. I love
Uncle Win very much. I love your father too."

"Is there anybody in the whole wide world you do not love?"

Doris flushed. She had not been able to feel very tenderly toward Mrs.
Manning, and Mrs. Hollis Leverett talked about her being so backward,
and such a "meachin" little thing.

"I dare say if the truth was known, her mother died of consumption. And
that great mop of hair is enough to take the strength out of any child.
I wouldn't have it on Bessy's head for an hour," declared Mrs. Hollis.

But Bessy told