ressed out in velvets and satins, and they wa'n't anybody
on the stage that didn't make a good appearance."

"But, you know, this was a different sort of play, Miss Becky. The
folks in _The Shaughraun_ weren't kings and queens, but just every-day
people."

"Well, s'posin' they was! I don't see no excuse for that man Con goin'
round lookin' so slack. I sh'd think he might at least git a whole
coat to wear when he 'pears before the public!"

"I'm afraid you're sorry you came," said Nannie, very meekly, feeling
quite ashamed of her poor little party.

"Oh, no, I ain't! Why, child, I'd hev come _barefoot_ to see this
place here, with the founting a-splashin' and the fishes a-gleamin'!
_Barefoot_, I tell ye!"

It was a forcible expression, yet Nannie was not quite reassured. She
still demurred.

"But the play was the principal thing, you know."

"The play? Well, I don't know," said Miss Becky, thoughtfully. "I
don't know's I'm so terrible sot on the the_ett_er's I thought for.
I'd a good deal ruther hev you come over 'n do that sleep-walkin'
piece for me. I don't want nothin' better'n that. 'F I can see you act
that once in a while, 'n' hev this here Garding of Eden to think
about,--a founting playin' right in the house, 'n' all,--I ain't
likely to want for amusement."

The best bonnet was still very much askew, but the pleasant old face
within, whose wrinkles had resumed their accustomed grooves, was
irradiated with a look of unmistakable beatitude; and somehow it was
borne in upon Nannie that her theatre party had been a success after
all.

OLIVIA'S SUN-DIAL

CHAPTER I

OLIVIA'S SUN-DIAL

"It's all we need to make it the prettiest garden in Dunbridge."

"Hm! And why must we have the prettiest garden in Dunbridge?"

"Why shouldn't we?"

Here was a deadlock--a thing quite shockingly out of place in a
garden, and one's own particular garden at that!

Olivia Page could make almost anything grow, as she had abundantly
proved, but even her garden-craft could hardly suffice for the setting
of a sun-dial on a pedestal of snow-white marble over there where the
four triangular rose-beds converged to a circle, and where the south
sun would play on it all day long.

For a year Olivia had dreamed of this, and, since she was not a
churlishly reticent young person, it was not the first intimation her
father had received of her desire. Not until to-day, however, had she
asked outright for what she wanted.