"Why, like Hope's note-book. She has to draw pictures of plants and flowers in her botany, and just for fun she makes skitches to picture out the stories they study in some of her other classes."
"But her skitches are nice," Peace remarked skeptically. "Why, Grandpa thinks some day she will make a good 'lustrator for magazines and books."
"My pictures are nice, too," Allee contended. "Here is a sunset I painted a long time ago—"
"It looks like a prairie fire," murmured the older sister, gravely eyeing the highly-colored sheet upside down.
"It just matches a lullaby I made up yesterday," continued Allee, unmindful of Peace's criticism. Rapidly her fingers turned the pages until she had found the lines she wanted, and with a heart filled with pride, she passed the book to her companion, who read,
"The sun is sinking in the west,
'Tis time my baby dear should rest,—
Sleep, baby, sleep."
"You haven't got any baby," the reader interrupted.