over-showy. But to her childish eyes it all seemed wonderfully fine.

"Oh, Uncle Robert," she cried, "is this your home? How beautiful it is! I
never saw such a lovely place in my life."

This speech pleased Mr. St. Clair beyond measure, for he dearly loved to
have his beautiful home appreciated, and he beamed, and rubbed his hands
together with a general air of satisfaction.

"Yes, yes," he said, "it is fine,--_fine_! There isn't another such place
for miles around."

Then they went into the drawing-room and Patty was presented to her Aunt
Isabel.

Mrs. St. Clair was a fair, large woman, with golden hair, elaborately
frizzed, and kind blue eyes. She was fashionably dressed, and her silks
rustled and her bugles tinkled as she came forward to meet her visitor.

"I am charmed to see you, Patty, my dear," she said, kissing her
affectionately.

"And I am very glad to be here, Aunt Isabel," said Patty, and just then she
was interrupted by the violent entrance of what seemed to be a small pink
cyclone.

This was the eight year old Florelle, and without a doubt it was she who
was responsible for the shrieks Patty had heard.

The child wore a short, beruffled dress of pink silk, a huge pink sash, and