home,--twin daughters of Dr. Burnett, were seventeen years old, and the
eldest of a large family. The father, a great-hearted man, devoted to
his noble profession, and generous of himself, his time, and money, had
little to spare after the wants of his family had been supplied, so it
was not strange that the daughters, on sober second thought, should feel
that the idea of such a trip to the Old World as Mrs. Douglas suggested
could be only the dream of a moment, from which an awakening must be
inevitable.

But they little knew the wisdom of Mrs. Douglas, nor for a moment did
they suspect that for weeks before she had mentioned the matter to them,
she and their parents had spent many hours in planning and contriving so
that it might seem possible to give this great pleasure and means of
education to their daughters.

Even now, while they were hesitating to mention the matter, it was
already settled. Their parents had decided that, with the aid of a
portion of a small legacy which Mrs. Burnett had sacredly set aside for
her children, to be used only when some sufficient reason should offer,
enough money could be spared during the coming year to allow them to
accompany Mrs. Douglas.

As the sisters drew near the rambling, old-fashioned house, set back
from the street, which was their home, a pleasant welcome awaited them.
The father, who had just come from the stable to the piazza, the mother
and younger children,--Richard, Lois, Margaret, and little Bertie,--and
even the old dog, Dandy,--each had an affectionate greeting.

A quick look of intelligence passed between the parents as they saw the
flushed faces of their daughters, which so plainly told of unusual