"Why, Barby, I wouldn't have thought that of you, now!"
"But she liked it. She was just as pleased."
"Pleased, was she? Did she clap her hands?"
"Yes; clapped 'em hard, she did, and laughed."
"Will she put it in her cabinet, think, Barby?"
"O, yes; she said it's what she did always want."
Horace's face brightened like the moon sailing out of a cloud. Grace's cabinet held nothing but choice articles, and was kept as orderly as a paper of pins.
"See here, Barby; you needn't tell Gracie I asked you any questions."
When the children met that morning, Grace threw her arms about her brother's neck,—
"O, Horace, dear, there never was anything so nice as my little dining-table."