Marjorie looked at her in astonishment. The gorgeous trappings and
the formal demeanor of the child made her think she must have
mistaken the house.

"Is this Mrs. Dunn's house?" she inquired, with some hesitation.

"Yes; I'm Miss Dunn," said the child, with such a ridiculous air
of affectation that Molly giggled outright.

"Yes," Miss Dunn went on, "I am the eldest daughter. My name is
Ella. They call me the Elegant Ella, but I don't mind."

"I am Marjorie Maynard and Mrs. Sherwood is my grandmother. She
heard your mother was ill and she sent her these baskets."

"How kind of her!" exclaimed the Elegant Ella, clasping her hands
and rolling up her eyes. "Won't you come in?"

As Marjorie and Molly had been with difficulty balancing
themselves on the broken boards of the porch, they were glad to
accept the invitation.

Their first glance at the interior of the cottage showed that the
rest of the family and the ways of the house did not at all
harmonize with the manner and appearance of the eldest daughter.

Everything was of the poorest, and there was no attempt at order
or thrift.

Mrs. Dunn sat in a rockerless rocking-chair, her left hand wrapped