Part 78

Then her mother went to the telephone and called up Helen's mother. In a moment she came back.

"Edith, dear," she said, "what day did you write Helen to come? Her mother says she thought it was to be Thursday, and so did Helen, and this is only Tuesday."

"But I did say Tuesday, mama," said Edith, who was almost ready to cry. "I remember because that was the hardest word to spell, and I think I made a blot when I wrote it."

"Well, never mind, dear; Helen is getting ready now and will be over in a few minutes," said her mama.

And Edith was very happy, and ran out to the tea-table under the trees with her doll to wait.

But she did not have to wait very long this time, for in a little while Helen came running across the lawn carrying her doll; and so happy were both little girls that Edith forgot all about the long time she had been waiting for Helen to come.

Helen wanted Edith to know that she had not been rude in staying away, so she brought with her the letter Edith had sent to her, so she could show it to Edith. And there, sure enough, the word "Tuesday" was written so badly that it looked more like "Thursday," and that was why Helen did not think she was expected on this day.

Well, the very first thing they did was to undress their dolls and put them to sleep under one of the bushes on the lawn--in the shade, so that the sun would not hurt their eyes, and so that the wax would not be melted from their cheeks. Edith put her napkin over both dolls for a comforter, for you never know when it will blow up cold, and little girls have to be as careful of their dolls as their own mothers are!

Very soon the maid came out with cookies and lady-fingers and make-believe tea, and another napkin to take the place of the one Edith had put over the dolls, and they had tea. Then the two little girls and Edith's nurse had a nice game of croquet, and they had a lovely tea-party after all, and Edith forgot all about waiting so long for Helen to come.

But Edith never again made a mistake when she spelled "Tuesday."

REBECCA

BY ELEANOR PIATT

I have a doll, Rebecca, She's quite a little care, I have to press her ribbons And comb her fluffy hair.

I keep her clothes all mended, And wash her hands and face, And make her frocks and aprons, All trimmed in frills and lace.

I have to cook her breakfast, And pet her when she's ill; And telephone the doctor When Rebecca has a chill.

Rebecca doesn't like that, And says she's well and strong; And says she'll try--oh! very hard, To be good all day long.

But when night comes, she's nodding; So into bed we creep And snuggle up together, And soon are fast asleep.

I have no other dolly, For you can plainly see, In caring for Rebecca, I'm busy as can be!

DOROTHEA'S SCHOOL GIFTS

BY EUNICE WARD

"It seems very queer," said Dorothea thoughtfully, "people who are going to do something nice always have presents given them, but people who are going to do something horrid never get a thing, and they need it twice as much."

"As for instance?" said her father, laying down his paper and drawing her onto his knee, while the rest of the family prepared to give the customary amused attention to their youngest's remarks.

"Well, when Cousin Edith went to Europe we all gave her presents to take with her, and when she came home lots of people sent her flowers. Anita's been getting cups and things ever since she was engaged, and last spring, when Florence graduated, almost all the family gave her something; and when Mary Bowman was confirmed she got a lovely white prayer-book and a gold cross and chain. But when people are going to do what they hate to do, they're left out in the cold."

"What are you going to do that you don't like, Baby?" asked Florence.

"Why, you know, school begins again next week," said Dorothea. "It makes me feel quite mournful, and I don't see anything to cheer me up and make it interesting for me." A little smile was hidden in the corners of her mouth although her tone was as doleful as possible.

"If you were going to boarding-school--" began Anita, who was apt to take everything seriously.

"Then I'd have lots of things," interrupted Dorothea. "New clothes and a trunk and a bag, and you'd all come to see me off, and it would be interesting. But I'm going to work just as hard here at day-school, and yet I've got to bear it, all by myself."

Her father pinched her ear, and her big brother Jim offered to have a bunch of roses placed on her desk at school if that would make her feel better, while her two sisters looked at each other as though the same idea had occurred to them both.