Under the Country Sky

raiding her own thick locks by the little bedroom fireplace in which the last remnants of the fire were smouldering, "if I sa

r coa

ev

hrew sno

t I can

sted che

ore-except perhaps in t

t by the fire with other girls and

e floor with my arm on my father's knee, with a group of people around, while somebody told stories-sure not such stories as you told. Oh, you're the cleverest girl

Jimps just lets go when he's amused and raises the rafters with his howls of glee; but s

just what I mean, if you don't know. But somehow it all struck me so differently from the way any girl-and-man evening e

t of linen and lace, outstretched upon the treasured old-time counterpane, the other beneath her neck; Georgiana sitting up straight, with two long, dark bra

ts-and the things that go with them-had been quite so badly neglected. To think of never having had them except so disguised by the manipulations of a French chef that you couldn't recognize

ious of the physical superiority for lack of which no training in the social arts or mere ability to purchase the aid of dressmaker and milliner could possibly atone, conscious that Georgia

ure beside you-helpless in every way. I can't do anything you can. If my father should lose his money an

brought back vivid memories of the wild sport of the afternoon.

man ready to dash into your fort

ot so

a

to. But-I'm discovering that there are other kinds of men, and somehow I like this new kind. And I imagine this kind wouldn't

e hard snowballs," sa

t undeniably slender arm and clasped it with

ed arm. "It is pretty spongy. It needs exercise with a punchball or"-she flashe

h! Would th

a life of ease, my dear, so those things are out of the question for you. But fencing less

coaxing arms about her cousin's firmly moulded neck.

o laugh. "Hear the child! What good would that do, i

g; she's always fussing about it because I can't endure the round of society things s

n the bucket of exerc

y, evidently with the intention of leaving her for the night. "I'd like to

be setting bread sponge at six to-morrow morning. Will

ity and horror in the lovely face on the pillow. "B

orning dew is off the gr

ee. You're testing me. Well,"-with a stifled sigh-"I'll get up if you'll call me

r pretty head about bread sponges. What's the use? You'll never need to know, and you'll s

m really serious.

ev

or and fled. That she did not want to teach her cousin an earthly thing, even if she could have believed Jeannette serious in

g boards under the worn stair carpet would permit, and began her work in a whirl of haste. But she had not more than assembled her ingredients on the scrupul

ire, a little cap of lace and ribbon confining her hair, the most impractical of sli

she announce

replied Georgiana, regarding

y arranged hair, her whole aspect of efficiency, and dropped to her own hig

s so near six I didn't dare wait to dress.

feel more stunned. What will happen to all those floating ends of lace and ribbon,

you'll lend me an apron. I really don't want to

ou up as best I can. Or I'll wait while you run up and dres

this, I'm afraid," admit

go the frills under a nice big gingham all-over; and now you look like a combination of Sleeping Beauty and Mot

eannette doubtfully-an

methods. There were times when Georgiana had much difficulty in restraining her inward mirth, but she soon saw that this m

do it," she lamented; "but I ca

ry another batch, which I doubt. And it's t

and so strong, it mus

do very well. Turn it over and lay it smoothly in the bowl-so. Cover it with its white blanket-so; and leave it right her

t going ba

e are just a few things to be done about the house, and they

t up so early?" J

an old habit. Good-bye, my dear; my next errand is down cellar," and she vanished from the sight of her gue

n upstairs with the coarser articles used by herself and the others. Jeannette, all unaware that the snowy linen with which her room was kept plentifully supplied was constantly relaund

early morning flurry of laundering, expressed himself upo

. "Are the sheets and towels we use

ndress, rubbing energetically away-yet carefully, too,

aren't you, daughter? Why do that?-sin

at the touch of a cotton sheet

ets and towels are-the mere degree of fineness is not essential. And if she knew how much labour it costs

er father's face. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she flashed at him repentantly. "I truly don't mind being poor in most ways. It's the lack of certain things that go with nicety of living that grinds me most. I shouldn't mind wearing gingham outside, if I could have all the

me this morning. I was delving in good old Thomas Fuller, of those fine seventeenth-century writers whose works still glo

find a classic to turn a tragedy into a comedy," she said. "Go away now, Father Davy, a