"Now, Mopsy, dear, you know I'd do anything in the world to help you that
I possibly can; but I'm afraid this is a huckleberry above my
persimmons!"

"But, Father, here's King's skatebag. Mother made it, and can't you see
by that how it's to go?"

"H'm,--let me see. I suppose if I must pull you out of this slough of
despond, I must. Now all these seams are turned in, and all yours are
outside."

"Yes; and how can we get them inside? There's no place to turn them to."

Mr. Maynard examined both bags minutely.

"Aha!" he said at last; "do you know how they put the milk in the
coconut, Marjorie?"

"No, sir."

"Well, neither do I. But I see a way to get these seams inside and let
your pretty silks put their best face foremost. Have you a pair of
scissors?"

"Yes, here they are."

Mr. Maynard deftly ripped a few stitches, leaving an opening of a couple
of inches in one of the seams of the lining. Through this opening he
carefully pulled the whole of both materials, thus reversing the whole