At the family conference on the subject, Grandma Dorrance said No. The gentle old lady was more than usually decided, and she said, that while the Faulkners and Van Arsdales were charming people, and more like visitors than boarders, a family of children, with nurses, was an altogether different matter, and meant far more trouble and complications than Dorothy could realize.

"Oh, grannymother dear," said Dorothy, "I don't think so. Miss Marcia says that Mrs. Black is a lovely lady, not a bit fussy; and children and nurses can't be as much responsibility as grown people. Why, they wouldn't be critical at all."

"Not critical, perhaps, but far more troublesome in their own way."

"Oh, I don't know," said Leicester; "the reason people didn't want us children in boarding-houses was because we made so much noise. Now we don't care how much noise these kids make, and there's room enough for the people who do care, to get away from the racket."

"We would have to have more servants," said Lilian; "and wouldn't that cut down the profits a good deal?"

"I've been thinking about that," said Dorothy, "and I've come to this conclusion. If we should take all these people, we would have to get another chambermaid, and another helper in the kitchen. A young girl to pare the vegetables, and help with the dish washing. Of course with so many extra people, more waitresses will be necessary; but as you say, Lilian, if we hire a lot of servants it will make our profits pretty slim. And so I propose that we three girls wait on the table."

"Oh, no, children," cried Grandma Dorrance; "I won't allow anything of that sort!"

"Now wait a minute, grandma," said Dorothy; "don't say things that you'll just have to take back afterwards. There is no disgrace at all in waiting on a table. Lots of college girls and boys do it right along, in the colleges,—and they go to summer hotels, too, and wait on the tables there. Now we children want to earn some money to help you; after you've taken care of us all these years, I'm sure it's no more than right. And if this way of earning money isn't easier and pleasanter than going into a store, I'll give up. What do the rest of you say?"

"I say, let's go ahead," declared Leicester; "if the four of us agree, we can persuade grandma. She never really refused us anything in our lives. And as to waiting on the table, I'd just as leave do it myself, as not. As you say, Dot, lots of college fellows do it, and it's no more disgrace than being president. And then we can all eat by ourselves afterwards, and have a jolly old time."

"I'd love to wait on the table," said Fairy; "I think it would be gorgeous fun. Shall we all wear caps, and aprons with big white wings sticking out of the shoulders?"

"No," said Dorothy, "not caps. We'll wear white aprons, but not with shoulder-ruffles."

"I shall have shoulder-ruffles on mine," said Leicester, decidedly; "and I shall wear a cap, too."

Even grandma laughed at this; but Dorothy said, "No, Less, I don't want you to wait on the table, at least not until we really need you. We girls can do it, with Tessie's help."

"Well, what can I do?" said Leicester; "it won't take all my time to register the people who come."

"There'll be enough for you to do, old fellow," said Dorothy; "you can go to market every day, and answer Miss Marcia's calls, and move Mary around. Then if you have any time left, you can amuse the three Black babies."

"Pickaninnies, are they?" said Leicester; "then I'll fill them up on watermelon."

Although Grandma Dorrance weakened somewhat in her disapproval of the plan, yet it was not until Mrs. Faulkner was called in, and her opinion asked, that grandma gave an entire consent.

Mrs. Faulkner was so sweet and sensible about the whole matter, and so judicious in her advice and suggestions, that grandma was much influenced by her view of the case.

Mrs. Faulkner quite agreed with Dorothy about the girls acting as waitresses, and strongly approved of the children's desire to add to their finances.

She also advised Dorothy to charge good prices for the accommodation of the children and nurses, because, she said, they were quite as great a responsibility in their way, as Mrs. Black herself.

As Dorothy had hoped, Mr. Bill Hodges was able to recommend a young girl whom he knew, to help Kathleen in the kitchen; and Tessie knew of a competent chambermaid who would be glad to come up from the city for a while.

So Dorothy wrote to Mrs. Black, and stated frankly what she had to offer, and what her rates were, and Mrs. Black telegraphed back that she might expect the whole family as soon as they could get there.

And so it came to pass, that again Leicester stood behind his open register, and the proprietor of the Dorrance Domain awaited her new relay of guests.

Though Dorothy was not as much embarrassed this time, as when she expected her first guests, and had far less sense of humor in the situation, she had a better poise and a greater self-confidence, which came necessarily from her so far successful experiences.

But when she saw the cavalcade approaching, her heart began to beat a little faster, and worse than that, she found it impossible to keep from laughing.

The Blacks had come up by rail, and had apparently annexed all the available vehicles at the station to transport them. There was a rockaway first, then two buggies, then two large spring wagons, and then a buckboard. In the wagons were several trunks, three baby-carriages and a number of queer-shaped forms carefully wrapped, which afterwards proved to be portable bath-tubs, a cradle and a folding crib.

Dorothy began to think that for once, Mr. Hickox would not prove equal to the occasion; but he reassured her with his usual statements that it would be all right, and that he would look after things.

The rockaway came first, and Mr. and Mrs. Black were helped out by Mr. Hickox in his most official manner.

Mrs. Black was a delicate, helpless-looking little lady; very pretty, in a pale blonde way, and seemingly very dependent on her big, good-looking husband. Mr. Benjamin Black was one of those hearty, cordial-mannered men, who make friends at once.

He brought Mrs. Black up the steps, and advancing to Dorothy with outstretched hand, said pleasantly: "I'm sure this is our proprietor, Miss Dorrance."

"Yes," said Dorothy, put at her ease at once, and shaking hands with them both; "I'm very glad to see you."

"We are glad to be here," said Mr. Black. "The trip was very warm and tiresome. But this place is most charming."

"And so cool and quiet," said Mrs. Black, sinking into a chair, and looking, Dorothy thought, as if she never meant to rise again.

By this time the other vehicles were depositing their cargoes, both human and freight, and for a moment Dorothy wondered if the Dorrance Domain were large enough to hold the entire collection.

One of the nurses was French, and was talking volubly in her own language to the two children who held her by the hands. One of these children, a girl of five years, was answering her nurse, also in French; while the other, a younger boy, was crying loudly, but whether in French or English, nobody could quite make out.

The other nurse was a large and stout German woman, who was crooning a German folk-song to the baby she carried in her arm. Apparently the baby cared little for German music, for the small infant was pounding its nurse's face with both tiny fists, and making strange gurgling sounds which might be caused either by joy or grief.

All these people came up on the veranda; and after persuading one of the drivers to stay and help him, Mr. Hickox began to carry the luggage into the house.

With a successful effort at composure, Dorothy paid no attention to the children and nurses, and conducted Mr. Black to the office.

"Ah," said he to Leicester; "how do you do, sir, how do you do? Fine place you have up here. Very fine place. Glad I brought my family. Hope they won't make you any trouble."

As the commotion on the veranda seemed to increase each moment, Leicester did not echo this hope, but spoke pleasantly to Mr. Black, and turned the register towards him.

The gentleman registered Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Black, Miss Sylvia Black, Master Montmorency Black, Miss Gwendolen Genevieve Black, Mlle. Celestine, and FraÜlein Lisa Himmelpfennig.

Leicester looked proudly at this array of names which reached half-way down the page, and ringing for Mr. Hickox, he gave him the keys of the rooms set aside for the party, and the caravan started up-stairs.

Dorothy went with them, both because she thought it proper to do so, and because she felt an interest in seeing the family properly distributed.

Leicester left his official desk, and found plenty to do in disposing of the baby-carriages, and the other paraphernalia.

It was strange, Dorothy thought to herself as she came down-stairs, how much more easily, and as a matter of course she took the Blacks' arrival than she had the previous ones.

"I must have been born for a hotel proprietor," she said to herself; "for I don't feel any worry or anxiety about the dinner or anything. I just know everything will be all right."

As she reached the foot of the staircase, she met Fairy, who was just carrying Mary's cage into the north parlor.

"Hurrah for Dorothy!" croaked the parrot, catching sight of her.

"Ah, Miss Mary, you'll have a lot of new names to hurrah for now, and jaw-breakers at that. I shouldn't wonder if they'd break even a parrot's jaw, and they may bend that big yellow beak of yours."

"She can learn them," said Fairy, confidently. "Miss Mary can learn anything. She's the cleverest, smartest, educatedest bird in the whole world. There's nothing she can't learn."

"Pretty Mary," said the bird in its queer, croaking voice; "move Mary's cage. Hurrah for Fairy!"

"There, just hear that!" exclaimed Fairy, proudly; "now I rather guess a bird like that could learn to hurrah for anybody."

"Well," said Dorothy, "but you don't know yet that these children's names are Gwendolen Genevieve, and Montmorency."

"What!" cried Fairy, nearly dropping the cage, "of course no parrot could learn such names as those."

"And Miss Marcia objects to nicknames," said Dorothy. "These new people aren't a bit like their aunts, though."

"When are they coming down?" asked Lilian, who had joined her sisters; "I wish they'd get that procession of baby-carriages started. I want to see the show."

At that moment, the French nurse, Celestine, came down-stairs with the two older children. The little ones had been freshly dressed, and looked extremely pretty. Sylvia was in crisp white muslin, with fluttering bows of pink ribbon, and Montmorency wore a boyish garb of white piquÉ.

"Won't you speak to me?" asked Lilian, putting out her hand to the little girl.

"No," said the child, hiding her face in her nurse's apron; "do away. I's af'aid."

"Mees Sylvie,—she is afraid of everything," said Celestine; "she is a naughty—naughty,—a bad ma'amselle."

"No, no," cried Sylvia; "me not bad. Me dood ma'selle."

"Me dood!" announced three year old Montmorency; "me no ky. On'y babies ky. Me bid man!"

"You are good," said Fairy, "and you're a nice big man. Come with me, and I'll show you where I'm going to put this pretty green bird."

"Ess," said the little boy, and grasping hold of Fairy's frock he willingly trotted along by her side.

Whereupon Sylvia, overcoming her bashfulness, concluded she, too, wanted to go with the green bird.

So Celestine and her charges accompanied the Dorrance girls to the north parlor, and there they found the Van Arsdale ladies, who sat waiting in state to receive their newly arrived relatives.