"Mrs. Dunn," Marjorie said, "please let Molly and me fix up this room a little bit. Now, I'll tell you what: you and the children take these baskets of things out into the kitchen and put them away, or eat them, or do what you please. And then you all stay out there until we tell you you may come back. Ella can trim her hat if she chooses, and Hoopsy Topsy can take care of the children, and you can go on with your reading which we interrupted."

"Now, ain't you kind," said Mrs. Dunn; "I do declare that would be jest lovely! I ain't had a good rest like that in I don't know when! Hoopsy Topsy, you and Ella'll have to shove me out in this here chair. I can hobble some, but I can't walk."

With the children's assistance, Mrs. Dunn was transferred to the other room, her children followed, and Midge and Molly were left to their own devices.

"It's hopeless," said Marjorie, as she looked around at the untidy room.

"Not a bit of it!" declared Molly; "if I only had a decent broom instead of this old stub! Now, I'll sweep, Mopsy, and you find something that'll do for a duster, and we'll straighten up the place in less than no time."

Molly was a brave little housekeeper, and though Marjorie knew less about it, she was an apt pupil, and the whole performance seemed great fun. In less than an hour the two girls had quite transformed the room. Everything was clean and tidy, and Marjorie had scampered out and picked a bunch of daisies and clover to decorate the mantel.

"They haven't any pretty things," she said, as she scowled at the effect of her bouquet in an old cracked jar. "I'll tell you what, Molly, let's come back to-morrow and bring some little traps to decorate with. I can spare a number of things out of my own room; and Grandma will give me some, I know; and Uncle Steve will give me some, too."

"Yes, I can bring a lot," said Molly, with enthusiasm; "let's make this family all over. Let's make them be neat and tidy and thrifty."

"Do you suppose we can?" said Marjorie, doubtfully.

"Well, we can try," said Molly. "Now let's call them in, and then let's go home. It must be dinner-time, and I'm nearly starved."

They opened the door and found the Dunn family apparently happy and contented; and in no wise disturbed by the unusual occupation of their visitors.

"Come in," cried Marjorie, "come in all of you, and see how nice your room looks!"

"I can't come just now," said Elegant Ella, whose speech was rather indistinct by reason of several pins held in her mouth. "I'm trimming my hat, and if I leave it now I'll forget how I was going to arrange the feather."

"I think I won't move just at present," said Mrs. Dunn. "The gettin' out here hurt me more'n I thought it was goin' to, and now I'm landed, I guess I'll set a spell. I'm ever so much obliged to you fer all your kindness, and now you'd better run along home or your grandma'll be worried. You're mighty good children, and I'm glad to have that room swep' up; it must be a weight off en Ella's mind."

It did not seem probable that Ella ever had a weight on her mind in the way of housekeeping cares, but at the moment she was so absorbed in her hat-trimming that she paid no attention to her mother's remark.

It seemed hard that Molly and Midge had no one to appreciate the results of their labors, but Hoopsy Topsy was washing the dishes after the family meal, Plumpy was asleep on the floor, and Dibbs was playing out in the door-yard, with some battered old toys.

So, taking their baskets, Molly and Midge started homeward.

"I thought it would be fun to take things to poor people," said Marjorie, with an air of disappointment; "but those people are too aggravating for anything. They just accept what you bring and hardly thank you for it, and then they seem to want you to go home as fast as you can."

"That's so," agreed Molly; "but I don't care whether they like it or not. I think we ought to try to do them good. I don't mean only to take them things to eat, but try to make them more—more—"

"Respectable," suggested Marjorie. "But I suppose that Ella thinks she's more respectable than we are this minute."

"I s'pose she does; but we oughtn't to be discouraged by such things. I think mother'll give me some of my last year's dresses to give her, and then she won't have to wear that funny-looking rig she had on."

"She likes that," said Marjorie. "I don't believe she'd wear your dresses if you took them to her."

By this time the girls had reached the Sherwood house, and Grandma invited Molly to stay to dinner, which invitation the little girl gladly accepted.

At the dinner-table they told Grandma the whole story of the morning.

Mrs. Sherwood was greatly amused at their description of the Dunn family, and greatly surprised to learn of their efforts in the house-cleaning line.

"I want you to be charitable," she said, "and generously inclined toward the poor and needy. But I don't want you to adopt such unusual methods of dispensing your charity. After this, when you feel inclined to such energetic measures, come home first and ask permission. Then, if the plan seems to me feasible, you can carry it out."

"But, Grandma," said Marjorie, "the Dunns really need help. They can't seem to do anything and they haven't anything to do with."

"But you're too young, my child, to know what they do need. You must be content to help them under the direction of some one older than yourself. Mrs. Dunn, I fear, is not a thrifty or hard-working woman. She has not been here long, and I know little about her; but I've been told that she quite spoils that oldest child and makes the second one do all the work."

"The second one is named Hoopsy Topsy," said Marjorie, laughing; "and she's like her name. She's always tumbling down and racing about, with her dress torn and her hair in her eyes, like a perfect witch. The Elegant Ella is quite different. Truly, Grandma, they're a funny lot, and if you go there this afternoon, mayn't we go with you?"

"No," said Mrs. Sherwood, "I shall go by myself, to-day, and investigate the case. Perhaps some other time I may take you children."

The girls were disappointed, but when they found they couldn't go, they went out to Marjorie's porch to talk it all over.

"I think," said Marjorie, "it's our duty to do something for those children. Just think, Molly, we have everything we want, and they have nothing."

"I'll tell you what, Mopsy: let's sew and make things for them; dresses, you know, and aprons."

"I can't sew fit to be seen, Molly; and 'twould take me all summer to get one apron made. I'd rather give them things that we have. Why, I'd rather give Ella my best parasol than to try to sew anything for her!"

"Oh, don't give her that lovely parasol! We'll think of something else.
Suppose we invite them all to dinner; you one day, and I another."

"I don't believe Grandma would like that. And, anyway, that would only give them dinner for two days; we couldn't keep it up, you know. But, Molly, I'll tell you what! Let's have a fair, or a bazaar or something,—and make some money for them that way."

"Just the thing! That would be lovely. Where shall we have it?"

"Right here in this porch. Uncle Steve'll help, I know. And I'm sure
Grandma won't mind our doing that."

When Marjorie laid the plan before Mrs. Sherwood that lady quite approved of it.

"Now, that's something sensible," she said; "it will be very nice for you girls to make things, and have a pretty little fair, but don't go down there again and sweep rooms for those people. I'm very sorry for poor Mrs. Dunn, but in this neighborhood there are not many poor people, and as the farmers are all kind-hearted I do not think she will suffer for lack of food while her injuries keep her from her work."

"Isn't there any Mr. Dunn?" asked Marjorie.

"No; he died a few months ago. That is why she had to come here and live in that forlorn little cottage. She hopes to support herself and her children by going out to work each day, but until her burns get well of course she can't do that."

"I'm sorry for her," said Marjorie, decidedly, "and I hope we'll make a lot at our fair to help her along."

When they told Stella about the plan for the fair, she thought it all great fun. She did not seem to care much about the Dunns or their needs, and positively refused to visit the little old cottage, but she was ready to work for the fair with all her might.

There seemed to be no end to the pretty things Stella knew how to make. She was a clever little artist, and she painted cards, pictures, and trinkets of all sorts, which Molly and Midge helped to make up into various salable fancy articles.

Midge was ingenious, too, and every afternoon the three worked busily, making all sorts of things.

Dolls were a specialty; and they made funny Chinese-looking affairs by stringing peanuts together, and making queer little costumes out of Japanese paper-napkins. They made paper dolls, too, which Stella painted prettily, and they dressed some little china dolls and wooden Dutch dolls.

Uncle Steve brought them materials to make up; and a letter which Marjorie wrote to her mother resulted in the arrival of a big box filled with all sorts of pretty and curious things, which would doubtless find a ready sale.

Marjorie crocheted mats and strung bead chains, while Molly, whose tastes were practical, made sweeping-caps and ironing-holders by the dozen.

So enthusiastic did the girls grow over their plan that their elders became interested, and soon donations for the fair began to arrive from many of the neighbors.

As the day drew near, preparations went on more rapidly, and the affair took on larger proportions.

It was arranged that all the toys, dolls, and fancy things for sale should be displayed in Marjorie's porch. Carter had put up some long tables, which Grandma Sherwood had draped prettily with white and light green cheese-cloth.

The other parts of the big veranda were arranged with tables, where ices and cakes were to be served; and a pretty booth was devoted to the sale of home-made candies.

The verandas and grounds were made gay with flags and Chinese lanterns. Uncle Steve superintended these decorations, which insured their being beautiful and appropriate. A tent on the lawn sheltered some musicians; and in an arbor, lemonade was dispensed.

The day of the bazaar was clear and pleasant, and not too warm. Early in the afternoon, Stella and Molly arrived, and the two, with Midge, all in their fresh white dresses, flitted about from one booth to another, to make sure that everything was in readiness.

Several other girls and boys, and some ladies and gentlemen too, had been invited to assist in selling the things and to wait on the guests, so that when the bazaar opened at four o'clock in the afternoon a merry lot of young people were scattered about the grounds.

Marjorie was in her element. "Oh, Uncle Steve," she cried; "isn't it all perfectly lovely! And I think we'll make quite a lot of money, don't you?"

"I do, indeed, Mopsy. I'm only afraid, by the way the customers are flocking in, that we haven't provided enough refreshment for them."

And sure enough, though the hour was yet early, crowds of people were coming in at the gate.

The fame of the little fair had spread among the country people, and they all seemed determined to help along the good cause. Molly and Marjorie found their stock of wares rapidly fading away, while Stella, who was selling lemonade, could scarcely keep enough on hand to supply her customers.

"You must put up your prices, Mopsy," said her uncle; "that's the way to do when your stock is getting low."

So Marjorie doubled the price of everything she had left for sale, but even then the dolls and trinkets were willingly bought.

"What shall we do?" said Grandma, in despair. "It isn't seven o'clock, we haven't lighted the lanterns yet for the evening, and the ice cream is all gone! I never dreamed we'd have such a crowd."

"We'll light the lanterns, anyway," declared Uncle Steve, "for if the ice cream is gone they'll want to buy the lanterns next!"

And sure enough they did. When the people came in the evening and learned that everything was sold out but the lanterns, they declared they would buy them for souvenirs. So the merry guests walked about the grounds, carrying the lighted lanterns they had bought (at astonishing prices), and it lent a fantastic effect to the scene to see the lanterns bobbing about among the trees and shrubs on the lawn.

Marjorie was so sorry not to have wares to offer her would-be customers that she ran up to her room several times, gathering up books, pictures, or toys that she thought she could by any possibility spare. She would fly with them down to the porch, mark them at exorbitant prices, and in a few moments they would be sold to the amiable and generous buyers.

It was an unusual experience for a fancy fair, as often there are many unsold wares left to be auctioned off or sold at reduced rates.

When it was all over and the last guests had departed, swinging their lanterns, Marjorie, very tired but very happy, displayed a well-filled cash-box.

"How much do you suppose?" she cried gayly to Uncle Steve.

"Fifty dollars," guessed that jovial gentleman.

"Nonsense," cried Marjorie, "you know there's more than that! But I rather think you'll be surprised when I tell you that there's a little over two hundred dollars!"

"Fine!" exclaimed Uncle Steve. "That will keep the Elegant Ella in fans and sashes for some time!"

"Indeed, it won't be used for that," declared Marjorie. "We're going to give it to Grandma and let her use it for the Dunns just as she thinks best. Little girls can have a fair and earn the money, but it takes older people to manage the rest of it."

"That's true enough, Midge," said Grandma, "but you certainly shall have a share in the pleasure of bestowing it upon our poor neighbors."