"Look at that!" said Sallie, holding up the mate to it. "Teacher's been to our house," said Maggie. "And teacher's been to our house!" Sallie responded triumphantly. These notes from "Teacher" were invitations for the little girls to spend the day with her at her country home on Saturday. They were to take the seven o'clock train at the Old Colony station, and ride about fifteen miles, and there Mrs. Eastman would be waiting with her carriage. Think of that! A carriage waiting for them! The day came at last. Great had been the preparations all the week; each Sunday dress had been made as nice as washing, ironing and mending could make it. And they were all at the-depot by half-past six, in a high state of excitement. The day was perfect. They enjoyed every minute of the ride in the cars. The conductor had orders to leave them at a certain station. No sooner had they stepped from the cars, than they saw the smiling face of their teacher. They were soon seated in a handsome carriage and rolling over a smooth road. The air was sweet and pure, the birds sang, the squirrels skipped about in the trees, and the golden October sunshine made the world beautiful that morning. "So you told Jesus about it, did you?" Mrs. Eastman asked. "Yes'm, we did," said little Sallie. "We told him Sunday night, and he 'tended to it the first thing Monday morning." [Illustration: MAKING WREATHS FOR THEIR HATS.] WHY MADGE CHANGED HER MIND. GRANDMA'S room was the very handsomest one in the house. Madge and Nellie thought it was the pleasantest at least. A bay window overlooked the street, where busy people came and went; two other large windows, that were doors as well, opened on to a piazza, and that piazza was a delightfully cool place to sit, on warm days. Grandma's large chair was out there most of the time in summer. Then she had to take but a few steps and she was in the flower garden. In winter the plants were in the conservatory, of course, and a glass door from grandma's room opened into that too. Between her pretty bedroom and the large room were folding doors. There were soft carpets and lace curtains, pictures, great easy-chairs, and everything for use and comfort and prettiness that could be thought of, for everybody in the house thought nothing was too fine and nice for grandma, and that was just as it should be. It was a bright September morning, but cool enough for grandma to have a fire snapping on her brass andirons in the fireplace. Some people dread to grow old, because they are so foolish as to think that young folks have all the good looks; but that is a great mistake. Grandma made just as pretty a picture in her black dress, white cap, and soft mull handkerchief folded about her neck, with her red knitting work in her lap, and the fire shining on her silver hair, as Madge and Nellie did over in the window in blue dresses, though their heads were brown and curly, and their cheeks round, and smooth, and rosy.