One afternoon Mrs. Hollister called Ethel into her room. After closing the door she said, "Ethel, I have written to your father's Aunt Susan, who lives in Akron, to come here and make us a visit. You know she's Grandmother's only sister, and I think it will do them both good to see each other. Grandmother is delighted and I expect that Aunt Susan will accept," and Mrs. Hollister calmly drew on her gloves.

Now, as her mother was not in the habit of considering her grandmother's comfort, and as the two women were seldom of one accord, Ethel looked at her furtively and with a puzzled expression of countenance, but that lady acted not the least embarrassed. It seemed strange to Ethel that all at once she should wish to cheer up her mother-in-law by inviting her country sister to visit them, but the girl simply said:

"That's lovely, Mamma," and went up to her room to study.

Although she disliked to credit her mother with such artifices, she finally hit upon a solution of the object of the invitation. It must be that it was Aunt Susan's money she was after, and why? Suddenly, it all came to the girl—it was to get Aunt Susan to like her (Ethel, her grand-niece) and make her her heiress, if not to all at least to a part of her fortune.

Ethel sat and gazed at the pretty room in which Mrs. Hollister had spent so much time decorating and making attractive. In her heart there was a desire to denounce her mother. Then, when she realized that it was all being done to benefit herself, she could feel nothing but pity for the woman whose one thought in life was for her daughter. She thought: "She will even tell people that I am Aunt Susan's heiress, and I must sit by and know that it is untrue. Everything is untrue in this house. Oh, how I wish I could get away from it all!" But to her grandmother she told her suspicions.

"Never mind, my lamb," said the old lady. "I know Susan well enough to say that she will love you for yourself, and probably she does intend to leave you and Kate half of her fortune at least. If it serves to help your mother socially, why Susan wouldn't care—she'd only laugh. Susan's very keen and sharp, my child. No one can make her do what she doesn't care to. Now don't you worry over anything. When she comes just be kind and polite to her and help make her visit pleasant."

"But, Grandmamma, I should die of mortification if she even conceived the idea that mother had that in her mind when she asked her here for a visit. Oh, I couldn't endure it. Please never let her know what I suspect. Will you promise, or I cannot look into her face."

"Your Aunt Susan shall never suspect such a thing from me. I promise," replied Grandmamma Hollister. "I am only too glad to see her once more. I could almost forgive your mother for any duplicity in it so long as she can come, for Susan and I are growing old and it will not be many years before one of us goes. But, Ethel, don't expect to see any style. Aunt Susan is a plain country woman. It may be a trial for you to have to go out with her."

"Oh, never, if she's like you, Grandmother," said the girl, kissing her, "and she is your own sister. She must be like you. But there's Nannie Bigelow and Grace McAllister. I wonder what they want."

"Hello! Ethel," called two young voices, "we're coming up. Your mother said we might."

"All right, girls; I'm in Grandmamma's room," replied Ethel, "come in here."

After greeting the old lady affectionately they began: "What do you know about it?" said Grace—"here Dorothy Kip has joined a new Society called the 'Camp Fire Girls,' and from the first day of vacation—May fifteenth—until October she's going to live in the woods and camp out."

"Yes," broke in Nannie Bigelow, "I'm just crazy to belong but Mamma won't let me because she heard that two of the girls who are to be in the Company live in the Bronx in a small flat and go to public school. But Connie Westcott's aunt is to be the head or 'Guardian,' and these girls are in her Sunday School class. She likes them and insists upon their becoming members. Isn't it ridiculous, Mrs. Hollister, that just because these girls are poor they're not considered fit to associate with us by some mothers, and I mean mine. As if I was half as good as they. Why, my great-grandfather was a shoemaker. Papa told me all about it, and he was a dandy good shoemaker, too; but Mother gets furious when I refer to it," and Nannie threw herself in a chair before the open fire that Grandmother Hollister always kept lighted save in warm weather.

"I know my mother wouldn't let me join," said Ethel. "Why, Kate Hollister is the Guardian of a Company in Columbus, Ohio, and Mother wouldn't allow her to speak of it even. She says it's like the Salvation Army, and such ridiculous nonsense. Oh, dear! all the mothers are alike, I'm afraid. We'll never have real fun until after we're married or become old maids."

Just then they were interrupted by the arrival of Connie Westcott, Dorothy Kip, and two or three more of Ethel's young friends, to whom they explained the subject under discussion.

"Well, my mother will let me join," said Connie, "and Dorothy's has allowed her."

"Yes," broke in Dorothy, "I was sure Mother would allow me to if Miss
Westcott was to be the Guardian."

"It must be a fine organization," said Mrs. Hollister, knitting steadily with the yellow lace falling over her still pretty hands. "I wish we had known of something like that in my young day. Why, it must be like one continuous picnic."

"I'll tell you what they do," said Sara Judson, "they first learn how to put out a fire. Supposing one's clothes should catch; they could save one's life. Then, in summer, or through the ice in winter, they rescue drowning people who have never learned to swim. They know what to do for an open cut; for fainting; how to bandage and use surgeon's plaster. They can cook at least two meals, mend stockings, sew, etc., and keep one's self free from colds and illness. They sleep in the open, and my! what fine health it gives a girl, and it makes a perfect athlete of her. She can cook and bake, market, and know just how to choose meats and vegetables. She can become a fine housekeeper as well, and learn how to make lovely gardens. Why, I'll bring you a book, Mrs. Hollister. I couldn't begin to tell you how wonderful it is. If a girl lives up to all the rules and can learn everything that is taught she's a wonder, that's all. So I hope some day Ethel can join, even if later."

"Oh, I'll never be allowed to join, girls. I'm to be a parlor ornament," and Ethel's eyes filled with tears.

"Never mind," said Constance White, "how desolate the home furnishings would be without lovely bric-a-brac."

"Yes," replied Grandmother Hollister, "whatever position a girl occupies if she fills it creditably she will have done her duty."

"I know that Ethel will be the head of a large and magnificent establishment," said Nannie Bigelow. "She's just the style of a girl."

Ethel half laughed and dried her eyes on her Grandmother's handkerchief.

"I don't care," she faltered, "think of living out in a camp and sitting around the fire telling stories. And I shall never be allowed to do it."

"Now you buck up, old girl," said Dorothy Kip abruptly. "Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Hollister, but sometimes I just love to use slang. You go ahead and wish hard for what you want and you'll get it. I always do. Say, don't you know that you can influence others to think exactly as you do? By wishing with all your might you can will it to be done."

Everyone laughed. Dorothy was an odd roly poly pretty girl of fifteen. She was the only sister and idol of four brothers whom she copied in every way. The newest slang was invariably on her tongue, and the family laughed at and petted her. In their eyes everything she did was perfect. She was a general favorite at school, but Madame La Rue declared that she would never become a perfect lady while her brothers lived at home; but she was kind-hearted and generous. Mrs. Hollister, Senior, liked her immensely. She always called her "Grandma."

"Do you know what I'm going in for?" she asked of the old lady. "Well,
I'll tell you—it's babies!" Everyone laughed.

"You needn't laugh. Next year I'm going to take all of my spending money excepting ten dollars and hire two rooms and a kitchenette. Dad gives me sixty dollars per. I'm going to take thirty-five for rent and the boys will help me furnish. Then I'm going to beg my friends for contributions and open a Day Nursery. Of course, I'll have to get a woman for fifteen dollars a month to take care of the babies, and the mothers can pay four cents a day for each child."

"Why, Dorothy Kip," exclaimed the girls. "You couldn't get any servant for fifteen dollars a month."

"I can, and don't you forget it. Old Susan Conner, who used to be my brother Tom's nurse, has offered to come for fifteen dollars. She likes me and she's willing to help me in this charity. We've talked it all over. Susan is some class now and has her two-room-and-bath apartment. She's old and hasn't much to do and she has enough to live on, so she's offered to come; and I'm going to spend just ten dollars on myself each month in place of sixty for candy and soda and such nonsense. No one knows of it but Susan and I. I'm going to beg for oatmeal and rice and bread of the grocers with whom we've traded for years, and if they refuse I'll influence Mother to leave them. Then I think Dad will help me out on milk and anything needed. I'll confide in him."

"That's a fine and magnificent idea, Dorothy," said Mrs. Hollister, "and you'll become a public benefactor."

"Well, you see, Mrs. Hollister, I like the little kids and I've seen such pitiful faces on some where the sisters have had to take care of them while the mothers worked. So I made up my mind I could take ten little ones anyway. Then the mothers' four cents will be forty cents a day. That will pay for some, of the food. Oh! I'm going to become a beggar and ask every friend to help me. Maybe it will fail but I can try. The boys will give, I'm sure."

"Yes, Dorothy, and I bet you'll succeed," said the girls. "We'll help, too."

Then each girl pledged herself for what she could afford to give.

"Well, you're awfully good, I'm sure," said Dorothy. "I never dreamed you'd all come forward. You're certainly sports, every one of you, and I'm obliged more than I can tell you."

"Who knows," said Grandmother Hollister, "but when you're grown up, you'll have a large house, and it may be called 'The Kip Day Nursery' and each of you girls here may be lady managers. They all grow from small beginnings. And, Dorothy, you may put me down for ten dollars," said Mrs. Hollister.

"Oh, say, you're a thoroughbred, you are," and the girl kissed her impulsively several times.

Now Grandmother Hollister had been saving that particular ten for a new lace scarf. It had been sent to her on her birthday by her son John, but she couldn't resist giving it. She could do without the scarf, and ten dollars would buy a couple or more warm rugs for the babies to sit on, for little ones like to sit on the floor.

The girls stayed in her room and chatted until dusk. They talked as freely before the old lady as before one another.

That evening Ethel asked her grandmother if there wasn't some way by which she could get away that summer and go to visit Cousin Kate.

"I'll think it over," replied Grandmother; "you certainly need the country. You look thin and peaked."

"Yes, and Mamma will take me to Newport or Narragansett, and I hate it. Why, it's just like New York. You meet the very same people and I never cared for the water as I care for inland or mountains. Do think out a way, Grandmamma. You always manage to do everything just right."

"I'll try," replied Mrs. Hollister.