"First of all your grandfather made the old shed into the neatest little kitchen with a corner cupboard. He whitewashed it and set up our stove, and I put our new dishes in the cupboard, and it was as pretty as a little girl's playhouse. The large room was a bare rough place, but we made it white and pure with lime, and I made a curtain out of some pretty chintz calico, and pat it across one side of the room, and that was my bedroom; you see your grandma invented curtains between rooms, which are now so fashionable, long ago. Well, when we had our carpet down, and our pictures up, our books on the shelf, and our round table with a sage-green cloth over it, a bright fire snapping in the great old fireplace, an old armchair one side of the fire and my sewing rocker on the other, I say, there was no neater, prettier place in the whole world." "But grandma, where were your parlor and dining-room?" "My child, the parlor and dining-room were all in one. The end of the room next the kitchen was the dining-room: when meal time came it was a dining-room, and when meals were over we just cleared off the table, turned down the leaves, set it back against the wall and put a spread on it, and the room was a parlor again; don't you see?" "Were you just as happy as you are in this handsome house?" asked Madge, casting her eyes over the beautiful room. "Some of the happiest years of my life were spent in this dear humble home," grandma said as she replaced the picture in the box with a last loving look at it. "Just think," said wise Nellie, looking thoughtfully into the fire, "if grandma was a little girl now she couldn't come to our party because she lived in a log house." "There is somebody greater than grandma you would shut out if He were here," grandma said; "the Lord Jesus himself had no fine house. He said the foxes and the birds had houses, but he had none." They went back to their work of making out a list. "Madge," Nellie said pretty soon, "I guess Jesus won't be pleased with such a party as we are getting up. If you don't care, I mean to ask mamma to let me have my party by myself some day, and I'll invite Minnie Dale and that lame girl, and that Jessie Moore in our class that wears calico dresses." "Nellie Bryant," said Madge, "don't you suppose I want to please Jesus too, instead of Elsie Melbourne, or Clara Vedder, or any of them? I never thought how it would seem to him; we'll ask Minnie Dale and everybody else mamma thinks best. If grandma lived in a poor little house once, who knows but Minnie Dale will live in a grander house than any of us some day?" "Yes; and just think," Nellie answered, "if papa should lose his money like Mr. Strong, and we have to go into a little bit of a house, wouldn't it seem dreadful to have the girls leave us out when they made parties, and we would be the very same girls we always were, too?" NANNIE'S LESSON.