began to see that their contracted position had its
decided compensating ameliorations.

In these views, I need not say, the women of our
little circle never shared. After we got the new
telegraph arrangement in good running-order, I observed
that Polly and Annie Haliburton had many private
conversations, and the secret came out one morning, when,
rising early in the cabins, we men found they had
deserted us; and then, going in search of them, found
them running the signal boards in and out as rapidly as
they could, to tell Mrs. Brannan and the bride, Alice
Orcutt, that flounces were worn an inch and a half
deeper, and that people trimmed now with harmonizing
colors and not with contrasts. I did not say that I
believed they wore fig-leaves in B. M., but that was my
private impression.

After all, it was hard to laugh at the girls, as
these ladies will be called, should they live to be as
old as Helen was when she charmed the Trojan senate (that
was ninety-three, if Heyne be right in his calculations).
It was hard to laugh at them because this was simple
benevolence, and the same benevolence led to a much more
practical suggestion when Polly came to me and told me
she had been putting up some baby things for little Io
and Phoebe, and some playthings for the older children,
and she thought we might "send up a bundle."

Of course we could. There were the Flies still