house," continued Mrs. Leonard, turning to Amy, "and I think she will be
inclined to appoint you first lady in attendance. She finds me cumbered
with too many other cares. But it doesn't matter. Mother has only to look
at the plants to make them grow and bloom."

"There you are mistaken," replied the old lady, laughing. "Flowers are
like babies. I never made much of a fuss over my babies, but I loved
them, and saw that they had just what they needed at the right time."

"That accounts for Webb's exuberant growth and spirit, and the ethereal
beauty of Len's mature blossoming," remarked Burt.

"You are a plant that never had enough pruning," retorted his portly
eldest brother.

"I shall be glad to help you, if you will teach me how," Amy said to Mrs.
Clifford.

"In the pruning department?" asked Burt, with assumed dismay.

"Possibly," was the reply, with an arch little look which delighted the
young fellow.

"Come, Maggie," said Mrs. Clifford, "sing a Christmas carol before we
separate. It will be a pleasant way of bringing our happy evening to a
close."

Mrs. Leonard went to the piano. "Amy," she asked, "can't you help me?"

"I'll do my best, if you will choose something I know."