always; but sometimes she's awful strict, and sometimes I forget
what she told me."

But with a firm resolve in her heart to do her best, Marjorie went
downstairs, and went out to play in the garden.

Some time later she saw a girl of about her own age coming down
the path toward her. She was a strange-looking child, with a very
white face, snapping black eyes, and straight wiry black hair,
braided in two little braids, which stood out straight from her
head.

"Are you Marjorie?" she said, in a thin, piping voice. "I'm Molly
Moss, and I've come to play with you. I used to know Kitty."

"Yes," said Marjorie, pleasantly, "I'm Marjorie, and I'm Kitty's
sister. I'm glad you came. Is that your kitten?"

"Yes," said Molly, as she held up a very small black kitten, which
was indeed an insignificant specimen compared to the Persian
beauty hanging over Marjorie's arm.

"It's a dear kitten," Molly went on. "Her name is Blackberry.
Don't you like her?"

"Yes," said Marjorie, a little doubtfully; "perhaps she can be
company for Puff. This is my Puff." Marjorie held up her cat, but
the two animals showed very little interest in one another.

"Let's put them to sleep somewhere," said Molly, "and then go and