If Aunt Madge had dressed in linsey woolsey, with a checked apron on, she would still have been lovely. A white rose is lovely even in a cracked tea-cup. But Colonel Augustus Allen was a rich man, and his wife could afford to dress elegantly. Horace followed her to-night with admiring eyes.

"They say she isn't as handsome as Aunt Louise, but I know better; you needn't tell me! Her eyes have got the real good twinkle, and that's enough said."

Horace was like most boys; he mistook loveliness for beauty. Mrs. Allen's small figure, gentle gray eyes, and fair curls made her seem almost insignificant beside the splendid Louise; but Horace knew better; you needn't tell him!

"Horace," said Aunt Madge, "your Uncle Augustus is gone, and that is one reason, you know, why I begged for company during the holidays. You will be the only gentleman in the house, and we ladies herewith put ourselves under your protection. Will you accept the charge?"

"He needn't pertect ME," spoke up Miss Dimple, from the depths of an easy-chair; "I can pertect myself."

"Don't mind going to the Museum alone, I suppose, and crossing ferries, and riding in the Park, and being out after dark?"

"No; I'm not afraid of things," replied the strong-minded young lady; "ask Prudy if I am. And my father lets me go in the horse-cars all over Portland. That's since I travelled out west."

Here the bell sounded, and the only gentleman of the house gave his arm to Mrs. Allen, to lead her out to what he supposed was supper, though he soon found it went by the name of dinner. Neither he nor his young cousins were accustomed to seeing so much silver and so many servants; but they tried to appear as unconcerned as if it were an every-day affair. Dotty afterwards said to Prudy and Horace, "I was 'stonished when that man came to the back of my chair with the butter; but I said, 'If you please, sir,' just as if I 'spected it. He don't know but my father's rich."

After dinner Fly's eyes drew together, and Prudy said,—

"O, darling, you don't know what's going to happen. Auntie said you might sleep with Dotty and me to-night, right in the middle."

"O, dear!" drawled Flyaway; "when there's two abed, I sleep; but when there's three abed, I open out my eyes, and can't."

"So you don't like to sleep with your cousins," said Dotty, "your dear cousins, that came all the way from Portland to see you."

"Yes, I do," said Fly, quickly; "my eyes'll open out; but that's no matter, 'cause I don't want to go to sleep; I'd ravver not."

They went up stairs, into a beautiful room, which aunt Madge had arranged for them with two beds, to suit a whim of Dotty's.

"Now isn't this just splendid?" said Miss Dimple; "the carpet so soft your boots go in like feathers; and then such pictures! Look, Fly! here are two little girls out in a snow-storm, with an umbrella over 'em. Aren't you glad it isn't you? And here are some squirrels, just as natural as if they were eating grandpa's oilnuts. And see that pretty lady with the kid, or the dog. Any way she is kissing him; and it was all she had left out of the whole family, and she wanted to kiss somebody."

"Yes," said aunt Madge.

"If that makes you look so sober, children, I'm going to take it down. Here, on this bracket, is the head of our blessed Saviour."

"O, I'm glad," said Fly. "He'll be right there, a-looking on, when we say our prayers."

"Hear that creature talk!" whispered Dotty.

"And these things a-shinin' down over the bed: who's these?" said Flyaway, dancing about the room, with "opened-out" eyes.

"Don't you know? That's Christ blessing little children," said Dotty, gently. "I always know Him by the rainbow round His head."

"Aureole," corrected Aunt Madge.

"But wasn't it just like a rainbow—red, blue and green?"

"O, no; our Saviour did not really have any such crown of light, Dotty. He looked just like other men, only purer and holier. Artists have tried in vain to make his expression heavenly enough; so they paint him with an aureole."

Prudy said nothing; but as she looked at the picture, a happy feeling came over her. She remembered how Christ "called little children like lambs to his fold," and it seemed as if He was very near to-night, and the room was full of peace. Aunt Madge had done well to place such paintings before her young guests; good pictures bring good thoughts.

"All, everywhere, it's so spl-endid!" said Fly; "what's that thing with a glass house over it!"

"A clock."

"What a funny clock! It looks like a little dog wagging its tail."

"That's the penderlum," explained Dotty; "it beats the time. Every clock has a penderlum. Generally hangs down before though, and this hangs behind. I declare, Prudy, it does look like a dog wagging its tail."

"Hark! it strikes eight," said Aunt Madge. "Time little girls were in bed, getting rested for a happy day to-morrow."

"I don't spect that thing knows what time it is," said Fly, gazing at the clock doubtfully, "and my eyes are all opened out; but if you want me to, auntie, I will!"

So Flyaway slipped off her clothes in a twinkling.

"We're going to lie, all three, in this big bed, Fly, just for one night," said Dotty; "and after that we must take turns which shall sleep with you. There, child, you're all undressed, and I haven't got my boots off yet. You're quicker'n a chain o' lightning, and always was."

"Why, how did that kitty get in here?" said auntie, as a loud mewing was heard. "I certainly shut her out before we came up stairs."

Dotty ran round the room, with one boot on, and Prudy in her stockings, helping their aunt in the search. The kitten was not under the bed, or in either of the closets, or inside the curtains.

"Look ahind the pendlum," said Fly, laughing and skipping about in high glee; "look ahind the pendlum; look atween the pillow-case."

Still the mewing went on.

"O, here is the kitty—I've found her," said auntie, suddenly seizing Fly by the shoulders, and stopping her mocking-bird mouth. "Poor pussy, she has turned white—white all over!"

"You don't mean to say that was Fly Clifford?" cried Prudy.

"Shut her up, auntie," said Dotty Dimple; "she's a kitty. I always knew her name was Kitty."

Fly ran and courtesied before the mirror in her nightie.

"O, Kitty Clifford, Kitty Clifford," she cried, "when'll you be a cat?"

"Pretty soon, if you can catch mice as well as you can mew," laughed auntie; "but look you, my dear; are you going to bed to-night? or shall I shut you down cellar?"

"Don't shut me down cellow, auntie," cried the mocking-bird, crowing like a chicken; "shut me in the barn with the banties."

Next moment it occurred to the child that this style of behavior was not very "speckerful;" so she hastily dropped on her knees before her auntie, and began to say her prayers. The change was so sudden, from the shrill crow of a chicken to the gentle voice of a little girl praying, that no one could keep a sober face. Prudy ran into the closet, and Dotty laughed into her handkerchief.

"There, now, that's done," said Flyaway, jumping up as suddenly as she had knelt down. "Now I must pray Flipperty."

And before any one could think what the child meant to do, she had dragged out her dolly, and knelt it on the rug, face downward, over her own lap.

"O, the wicked creature!" whispered Dotty. But Aunt Madge said nothing.

"Pray," said the little one, in a tone of command. Then, in a fine, squeaking voice, Fly repeated a prayer. It was intended to be Flipperty's voice, and Flipperty was too young to talk plain.

"There, that will do," said Aunt Madge, her large gray eyes trying not to twinkle; "did she ever say her prayers before?"

"Yes, um; she's a goody girl—when I 'member to pray her!"

"Well, dear, I wouldn't 'pray her' any more. It makes us laugh to see such a droll sight, and nobody wishes to laugh when you are talking to your Father in heaven."

"No'm," replied Flyaway, winking her eyes solemnly.

But when the "three abed" had been tucked in and kissed, Fly called her auntie back to ask, "How can Flipperty grow up a goody girl athout she says her prayers?"

There was such a mixture of play and earnestness in the child's eyes, that auntie had to turn away her face before she could answer seriously.

"Why, little girls can think and feel you know; but with dollies it is different. Now, good night, pet; you won't have beautiful dreams, if you talk any more."