comical twins--Dora--never called anything but Dodo--and Paul, aged four.
They were always getting into mischief, and out again, and were "just too
sweet and dear for anything," as Betty put it. Betty, being an only
child, rather hungered for brothers and sisters.

And now we come to Amy Stonington. Poor Amy! There was something of a
mystery about her. She realized something of it herself when she was old
enough to know that she was not in physical characteristics at all like
her parents--at least she regarded Mr. and Mrs. John Stonington as her
parents. And yet she could not understand why she was not more like them
in type, nor why, of late, she had often come upon them talking earnestly
together, which talk ceased as soon as she entered the room. In
consequence of which Amy was not very happy these days.

Yet the most that she feared was that her parents were mapping out a
career for her. She was talented in music, playing the piano with a
technique and fire that few girls of her age could equal. More than once,
after a simple concert in the High School, at which she played, teachers
had urged Mr. and Mrs. Stonington to send her to some well-known teacher,
or even abroad to study.

"But if that's what they're planning I just won't go!" said Amy to
herself, after one of those queer confidences she had broken up. "I'd die
of loneliness if they sent me away."

So much for our four girls.

Dear Deepdale the girls always called it--Dear Deepdale! They always
spoke affectionately of their home town, the only residence place any of
them had ever really known, for though some of them had lived as children