Half-A-Dozen Housekeepers

-cheeked girls warmly tucked in buffalo robes on the bottom. Even the sober old sun, who had been under a cloud that day, poked his head out t

w, so that on snowy days they might extend their lazy lengths thereon, and finally a fir-covered barrel of Nodhead and Baldwin apples in on

the common-sense of it will be seen by every thoughtful mind. Our forces will consume a peck a

I am, calmly seated on a coal-hod with my hat on, while you are talking so fas

Behold your camp, your wigwam, your tent, your quarters!” and she threw open t

rt. “Any girl who can devise two such happy combinations as an apple-barrel in

Patty, “why those croquet mallets and b

osing anybody should come in the piazza window

mallets and pound us all to a jelly to begin w

,” answered Bell, with a reflectiv

to alarm the neighbors?” asked Alice, “and to put an end to the discussion I suggest that the cooks start s

rred to exchanged looks of

mention supper before she has been in

o: Breakfast at 9 a.m., luncheon at 12 m., dinner at 5 p.m., refreshments at various times betwixt and between, and all affairs pertaining to eatables are to be completely under the control of

cried Patty Weld, in comical despair. “I dare say we shall be half starve

t have made much difference whether the repast was sumptuous o

g half left to fry, and sees a solitary one left in the dish, with all its lovely companions both faded and gone, she is naturally disheartened. Any way, we have finished for to-night, so the Dish Brigade can marshal its forces. We will ta

raying out, and her high-necked blue apron still on over her dark dress, was humming soft little songs at the piano. Roguish Jo was sitting flat on the hearth, her bright cheeks flushed rosier under the warm occupation of corn popping, and her dark hair falling loosely round her face, while Patty Weld with her shy, demure face, was beside her on a hassock, knitting a “fascinator” out of white wool. These two, so thoroughly unlike, were never to be seen apart; indeed, they were so inseparable

her, then muster the Hair-Brushing Brigade, and go to bed. I think I have corn enough; I’ve po

ou give us, Jo, the more popu

e ‘pop-in-J,’ isn’

almond. Lilia, you’re not a bit of assistance; you’ve tied up the end of the nut-bag in a hard knot, upset the apple-dish, put the tablecloth on crooked, and—oh, dear—now you’ve stepped in the pop-corn,” as Lilia, tryi

ortunate Lilia; “I’ve often been told I w

osts and visions to-night, if we don’t terminate this repast? I’ll put away the dishes,

ow of the firelight, the brown, the yellow, and the dark hair was taken down, and the housekeepers, braiding i

nd friendly beyond anything? How thankful we ought to be for the happy lives God gives us! We have been put into this

dith, “although it’s very strange that it should. Before my mother’s death I was just a little baby playing with l

I were a Chinaman. Or, perhaps, it is as Edith says, I am still playing with blocks, although

f the windo

, in three short months, a lovely, tender, green, springing world, He can make something out of

k I have much of a soul; any way, I have never seen any signs of it. You always say thing

usedly struggling to make a figure of speech express her meaning.

think if you’ll try to handle the spiritual bellows, you’ll find it’s harder work than you imagine. No

posite side. Who was it who gave every cent of her month’s allowance to Mrs. Hart, the poor washerwoman who scorched her w

little head. Now, Bell, you know we all agreed to tell a story of adventure each night before going to bed, and I think you, as hostess, ought

ed to me except going to California and having a double we

Oh, you do have such a good time, and funny things are always hap

awfully fussy old aunty! Perhaps I’m not such an idiot that I can’t multiply eight and nine, or seven and six, without

’ll never allude to your good fortune again. Now tell us a Califo

ell you the story of these;” and she took up a string of dusty pearls which were seamed and cracked as if by

hinamen, worked in these mines, and we used to see them very often. Mother and I were sitting under the peach-trees in the garden one afternoon. It was so beautiful sewing or reading in that California garden, for the fruit was ripe

l make us discontented wi

l with them, brilliant dark eyes, good features, and the prettiest slim hands and graceful arms. She was dressed gaily and handsomely in the fashion of her tribe, and on her lovely, bare, brown neck was this long string of Mexican pearls, which we noticed at once as being very valuable. She stayed there all the afternoon under the fruit-trees, and really grew quite confidential. Mother, meanwhile, had gone into ecstacies over her beautiful pearls, and had taken them from her neck to examine them. At sunset, when she we

eyes grew round with interest, for she was sixteen and had b

course, and were terribly shocked when we heard that it was the funeral of poor Eskaluna, who had visited us so lately, in all her dusky beauty. Nakawa told us the whole story in his broken English, and a sad one it was. Her lover, the chief, as I have said, was always jealous o

r peaks, left the San Jacinto valley in fast-growing darkness. At last he saw the gleam of her scarlet dress in the distance, and soon he heard her voice as she came singing along, little thinking of her dreadful fate. He took sure aim at the heart

neck of hers had rested,—the prettiest neck in the world,—lay this charred string of pearls she had worn in our garden. Mother asked for it as a remembrance, and the old squaw gave it to her. Eskaluna’s brother is on the war-path after her murderer, I believe, to this day, if he hasn’t killed him yet; for he was determin

r,” yawned Jo, “but

ling experience of yours

l have if we go to bed,” murmured Edith from her cozy corner. “Co

in at the piazza window, smiled as she saw the half-dozen heads in a ro