kitchen to call the family to supper. "Ain't yer 'shamed of yerself,
Mary Elliot?--a great girl like you, most ten years old, walkin' top o'
rail fences and climbin' apple-trees in the low pastur'!"

"No, I'm not!" said Mollie, promptly.

"Hush, Mollie," said Mrs. Elliot. "Lovina, that will do. Wash your face
and hands, Mollie, and make yourself decent to come to supper."

An hour later, seated in the hammock, the girls discussed their aunt's
plan.

"We'll have the Jones girls," said Susie, "and Grace Tyler, and Nellie
Dimock, she's such a dear little thing; and I suppose we must ask Fan
Eldridge, because she lives next door, though I dread to have her come,
she gets mad so easy; but mamma wouldn't like to have us leave her out;
and then, let's see--oh! we'll ask Florence Austin, the new girl, you
know."

"Would you?" said Mollie, doubtfully. "We don't know her very well, and
she dresses so fine and is kind of _citified_, you know. Ar'n't you
afraid she'll spoil the fun?"

"No," said Susie, decidedly. "Mamma said we were to be good to her
because she's a stranger; and I think she's nice, too--not a bit proud,
though her father is so rich."

"Well," Mollie assented, who, though thirteen months older than her
sister, generally yielded to Susie's better judgment; "let her come,
then. That makes six besides us, and Aunt Ruth said half a dozen would