with them.

"How do you happen to have such lovely curls?" asked Abby of the
fascinating little creature.

"Oh, mamma puts every curl into a wee nightcap of its own when I go to
bed!" answered the child, with a playful shake of the head.

Larry thought this very droll. "Isn't she cunning?" he said. "But
what can she mean?"

"Your mother puts your hair into a nightcap!" cried Abby. "Those are
curl papers, I suppose."

"No, nightcaps," insisted the little one. "That's the right name."

The children puzzled over it for some time; but finally Aunt Kitty came
to the rescue, and explained that she rolled them on bits of muslin or
cotton, to give them the soft, pretty appearance which Abby so much
admired; because Claire's father liked her to have curls, and the poor
child's hair was naturally as straight as a pipe stem.

"Come and see our chapel, Claire," said Abby; the word oratory did not
yet come trippingly to her tongue.

Claire was delighted with the beautiful image, and behaved as
decorously as if she were in church. Afterward the children took her
to walk. They went into the park, in which there were many handsome
flower-pots, several fountains, and a number of fine pieces of marble
statuary. Claire seemed to be much impressed with the latter.