bed-clothing, and stores. In the midst of this delightful and cheery
setting-to-rights a letter arrived from Cousin Ann. The family was all
sitting together in Mrs. Carey's room, the announced intention being to
hold an important meeting of the Ways and Means Committee, the Careys
being strong on ways and uniformly short on means.

The arrival of the letters by the hand of Bill Harmon's boy occurred
before the meeting was called to order.

"May I read Cousin Ann's aloud?" asked Nancy, who had her private
reasons for making the offer.

"Certainly," said Mrs. Carey unsuspectingly, as she took up the
inevitable stocking. "I almost wish you had all been storks instead of
chickens; then you would always have held up one foot, and perhaps that
stocking, at least, wouldn't have had holes in it!"

"Poor Muddy! I'm learning to darn," cried Kathleen, kissing her.

LONGHAMPTON, NEW JERSEY, _June 27th_.

MY DEAR MARGARET [so Nancy read],--The climate of this seaside
place suits me so badly that I have concluded to spend the rest
of the summer with you, lightening those household tasks which
will fall so heavily on your shoulders.

[Groans from the whole family greeted this opening passage, and Gilbert
cast himself, face down, on his mother's lounge.]

It is always foggy here when it does not rain, and the cooking