"Yes; and she's your kind, Sara,—good, you know. You'll like her, and so do I, when I'm in my right moods, but sometimes I don't. You don't know, Sara," with a pathetic shake of her curls, "how hard it is to get along when you have bad streaks through you! Why, sometimes I'll go on for at least three days as smooth as can be, getting all my lessons, and being just as good as anybody; and then there comes a day that upsets it all. I can't study, and I see all the funny things, and how I can make 'em funnier with a touch; and I want to giggle at everything, and—well, it's that naughty streak, and I can't help myself, any more than you can help being good."
"Well, Molly," resignedly, "promise me this, that, whatever you do, you'll be out and out about it: no hiding, no shirking, no lies." "I never told a lie in my life, Sara Olmstead, never!" with a set of her bright head that was like the elder sister in her determined moods. "I'd feel mean forever!"
Sara smiled, and, with a rush of tenderness, bent forward and kissed her.
"No, darling, you won't lie, thank God! Now go to bed like a good girl, and be bright and rosy for to-morrow. Good-night!"
"Good-night, you blessed old sweet thing, you!" and with twenty kisses, and a strangling hug, the merry child ran off to dream,—not of students in elevated hats, but of creams and comfits, and pleased guests around a long table; for she was but a large-hearted, hospitable matron in embryo.
The party was really a brilliant success. Mrs. Macon sent a basketful of bright flowers, and some pretty draperies and decorations; while the professor willingly agreed to let the screen go, and insisted on Sara's taking the whole day off to assist at the fete. The madame came herself, and with deft fingers, and perfect taste, helped the two convert the little flat into a bower.
No one would have known the back room, with bright rugs covering its painted floor, and all the kitcheny suggestions hidden behind the ample screen; while the parlor was really charming in its tasteful dressings.
When the girls began to arrive, Sara watched her little sister with almost a dazed feeling. How rapidly this flower she had so cherished was unfolding before her eyes! And what was its quality to be? No modest daisy or violet certainly, nor yet a gaudy, flaunting tulip, but something bright, sweet, surprising, and enticing, all at once; and she thought of a carnation-pink shooting up from amid its ragged foliage, vivid, brilliant, and of a spicy fragrance. She watched the guests, also, with a critical eye, and was much pleased to note that Molly had shown good taste in their selection. They were all ladylike girls, evidently from good, well-guarded homes, and, though merry and care- free, had not a touch of vulgarity.
Madame Grandet had begged the privilege of remaining to help with the supper; and you may be sure every dish was served with a perfection and daintiness of touch only the French can give. Yes, it was a great success; and when, after the last guest had departed, Molly came and told her sister, almost with tears in her eyes, how happy she had been, Sara felt repaid for the sacrifice of quiet and seclusion she had made.
But she knew one party would not keep Molly. The active, restless, rapidly-unfolding nature must have constant occupations and interests; so for the sister's sake she did what she never would have done for her own.