"Come here, you envious elf," said her father, taking something from
his pocket. Like light she flashed out from under the cloud and was at
his side in an instant, dimpling, smiling, and twinkling with
expectation, her black eyes as quick and restless as her father was
deliberate and slow in undoing a dainty parcel.

"Oh, George, do be quick about it, or Zell will explode. You both make
me nervous," said Mrs. Allen fretfully.

Suddenly pressing open a velvet casket, Mr. Allen hung a jewelled
watch with a long gold chain about his favorite's neck, while she
improvised a hornpipe around his chair.

"There," said he, "is something that is worth more than Edith's farm,
tumble-down cottage, roses, and all. So remember that those lips were
made to kiss, not to pout with."

Zell put her lips to proper uses to that extent that Mrs. Allen began
to grow jealous, nervous, and out of sorts generally, and having
finished her chocolate, rose feebly from the table. Her husband
offered his arm and the family dinner party broke up.

And yet, take it altogether, each one was in higher spirits than
usual, and Zell and Edith were in a state of positive delight. They
had received costly gifts that specially gratified their peculiar
tastes, and these, with the promise of a grand party and a trip to
Europe, youthful buoyancy, and champagne, so dilated their little
feminine souls that Mrs. Allen's fears of an explosion of some kind
were scarcely groundless. They dragged their stately sister Laura, now
unwontedly bland and affable, to the piano, and called for the