A Daughter of the Rich

by Mary E. Waller

"Not preserves, Martie, for Chi said--" Her mother interrupted her,--

"Never mind what Chi said now, dear, but plan for the tea. We shall have to work as hard as we can jump to-morrow forenoon to get ready. I 'm sorry father can't be at home."

"Could n't we have blackberries and those late garden raspberries Chi has been saving?" said Rose.

"Yes, those will look pretty and taste good; and then hot rolls, and fresh sponge and plum cake, and tea, and cold chicken moulded in its jelly, the way we tried it last month--"

"Oh, that will be lovely, Martie," whispered Rose, eagerly.

"And if Chi and March have the time," went on Mrs. Blossom, entering heart and soul into the hospitable plan, "I 'll ask them to go trout-fishing and bring us home two strings of the speckled beauties, and if those served hot don't make them respect old clothes--then nothing on earth will," concluded Mrs. Blossom, with mock solemnity.

"Oh, Martie Blossom, you're an angel!" cried Rose, softly, rising in bed and throwing both arms about her mother's neck--"there!"--a squeeze, "and there--" another squeeze and a kiss, "and now you won't have to complain of me to-morrow."

"That's mother's own daughter Rose," said Mrs. Blossom, smoothing the sheet under the round chin. "Now, good-night--sleep well, for I depend upon you to make those rolls to-morrow forenoon."

XI

JACK