"Want her to have a beau?" asked Miss Wingate with the scissors
suspended over the bit of pink muslin which matched exactly her own
ruffled skirts,

"Yes'm! Pattie Hoover wored shoe-tops all winter and now she's got
foot-dresses and Buck Peavey for a beau."

"Oh, I see," said the singer lady as she smiled down into the eager
little face. "Do you think--er, beaux are--are desirable, Eliza?"

"Yes'm, I do," answered the bud of a woman, as she drew nearer and
said with an expression of one bestowing a confidence, "When I'm let
down to my feet I'm going to have Doctor Tom for my beau, if you
don't get him first."

"I'm sure you needn't worry about that, Eliza," Miss Wingate
hastened to exclaim with a rising color. "I wouldn't interfere with
your plans for the world--if I could."

"Well, you take him if you can get him," answered Eliza generously;
"somebody'll grow up by that time for me. But he couldn't make you
take oil, could he?" she asked doubtfully, the memory of yesterday's
escape lurking in her mind and explaining her most unfeminine
generosity.

Miss Wingate eyed her for a moment with mirth fairly dancing over
her face, "Yes," she said with a laugh, "I believe he could!"

"Elinory, child," said Mother as she came out from the front hall,
"here we are a half hour late with this cream, and both of us under