May and Ada were thinking. That is how they would have described their long fit of silence one Saturday afternoon. They were alone in the room which did duty for dining-room, schoolroom, and everything else; but they were quite used to being left to themselves. Mother and Jane had always lots to do, and the little girls were often troubled about this, and talked of the time when they would be able to help.

'May, I have thought,' cried Ada, suddenly.

'Have you?' said May, slowly. 'I haven't. But you're always quicker than I am, Ada.'

'Well, I have thought. I am sure Grannie and Grandfather would come and live with us always if Mother had more money.'

'Oh! I know that part,' cried her sister. 'That's what we started to think about.'

'Don't be in such a hurry,' said Ada, reprovingly. 'We want to get the money. Well, you know the dear little pincushions we made for Aunt Ellen's bazaar, and how she said they were sold directly?'

'Of course I do, but—— '

'Well, let's make lots of them, and go out and sell them. I know we shall have to make lots and lots, but they won't take long to sell, and then we shall have plenty of money for Mother. Perhaps she would get another Jane, too, then she wouldn't have so much to do. Well?' and Ada stopped, a little breathlessly, and waited for her sister to say something.

'It sounds quite splendid,' said May; 'but do you think that Mother would like us to sell for ourselves? The bazaar seems different.'

'But we mustn't tell her,' cried Ada. 'The surprise will be the best part. Think how pleased she will be! She's always glad when we do something for her when she doesn't expect it. I am sure it is the very thing. I was thinking hard for ever such a long time, but nothing else would do. We are too small to go out and work to get money—— '

'And Mother couldn't spare us,' cried May. 'Besides, you forget our lessons.'

'And we do not knit very well yet. At least we could never finish a sock unless Mother helped us, and then she would know. But, May, hadn't you thought at all?'

'I am afraid I hadn't, and I did try so hard. But that doesn't matter,' said May, who was accustomed to follow her younger sister's lead. 'Let's start making directly, Ada. Have we any bits of silk left?'

'Plenty; and I've got some cards cut. We can get one or two done before tea.' And the two little girls were soon as silent over their work as they had been over their 'thinking.'

For the next few weeks they were continually to be seen cutting circles out of old postcards, covering them with silks, and sewing them together. Mother teased them sometimes about their 'Pincushion Factory,' but she was glad to see them happy and busy, especially as spring was coming in 'like a lion,' with day after day of gales and storms, which made walks impossible. Jane was rather inquisitive about their doings, and a little hurt at not knowing their secret. She was accustomed to be told all about their 'thinking,' and to have a share in all the wonderful plans that Ada invented and May followed; but neither of the sisters would explain why so many pocket pincushions were wanted all at once. 'It isn't another bazaar,' said Jane, to herself, 'or Mistress would have told me. It's just some new fad Miss Ada's got hold of. I dare say it's all right. They are as good as gold, those two, and the pincushions can mean no harm.'

'Three dozen exactly,' said Ada, one bright Saturday morning, 'and every colour that any one could want. We shall make a lot of money! We must begin selling them to-day, May.'

'Must we?' said May, rather dubiously. Somehow that part of the business did not quite please her. She had been glad that the stock took so long to accumulate, and that the business of selling did not begin at once.

'Yes, indeed. We're going to the baker's for Mother this morning. She said we might, because Jane's too busy. So we will take some out with us. Aunt Ellen got sixpence each for hers at the bazaar.'

'But can we?' said May. 'Let's ask threepence. They are very small, you know. How many will your pocket hold, Ada?'

Two little girls left Grove Villa an hour later. They were neatly dressed in dark blue, with a bright red ribbon round their sailor-hats, and there was a spot of bright colour on each of the four cheeks, telling of the excitement in the little minds. Ada was eager to begin, but May almost hoped that no likely buyers would be met with.

'Shall we ask the baker?' she whispered, as they drew near his shop.

'No, I don't think so,' said Ada, uncertainly. 'I don't quite know, but I don't believe that a baker wants pocket pincushions. I would rather ask some one who doesn't know us. Gentlemen are best because they have waistcoat pockets to slip them into.'

But there are not many gentlemen to be seen in a London suburb in the morning on Saturday, or any other week-day, and the sisters had walked farther down the High Road than they imagined before a likely buyer came in sight.

'There's a gentleman,' said May, in a very shaky voice. 'You ask him, Ada—you.'

'Please, sir, will you—would you buy a pincushion?' stammered Ada. The pincushion factory was all very well, but the selling part did not seem so pleasant, now that she had come to the point.

'And what should I want with a pincushion?' said some one far above their heads, so gruffly that Ada longed to run away, and May, somehow, found that tears were very near.

'And what may you be doing here alone with your pincushions?' went on this terrible voice; but it was not so gruff this time. There was something in it which they thought they had heard before. Looking up, who should it be but their father's Irish friend, Mr. O'Brien, whom they were trying to capture for their first customer!

'Oh!' cried Ada, 'it's you!' and the whole story came tumbling out in such a confused way that Mr. O'Brien had nearly taken them back to Grove Villa before he quite understood it.

Mother, too, was very much puzzled. 'No, I don't say it was naughty, my dears, but you had better not have surprises out of doors again,' she said. 'But what made you think of it at all, Ada?'

'But Grannie and Grandfather could live here if they wanted to, only the country is better for them,' she explained, when the little girls had told her the reason of their 'factory.' 'Yes, you do hear me say we can't afford things, but they are things we don't really need. You always have all you want, don't you? Don't worry your little heads about money, then, and promise me one thing—never to go a step farther than I send you when you go out alone! You might have been lost if Mr. O'Brien hadn't met you!'

'Indeed we will not, Mother darling!' cried the two in one breath.

'And I think,' said May, soberly, 'we will tell Jane or somebody about our next surprise, and then we shall know whether it is all right.'

E. S. S.