Mr. Underhill inquired about them, and learned their circumstances were quite straitened. He promised to come up soon and see them. Mrs. Brockner kissed Hanny, quite charmed with her simplicity and pretty manner. And she had never once thought about the length of her old brown skirt. It was supper time when they reached home. Steve and Joe and John were there. The three younger boys had been left at Yonkers. Indeed, George had declared his intention of being a farmer. Mrs. Underhill said she didn't want any more boys until she had a place to put them. Afterward Joe coaxed the little girl to come and sit on his knee. They were talking about schools. "Seems to me, Margaret better be studying housekeeping and learning how to make her clothes instead of going to school," said Mrs. Underhill shortly. "She can write a nice letter and she's good at figures, and, really, I don't see----" "She wants to be finished," returned Steve, with a laugh. "She's a city girl now. I've been looking schools over. There are several establishments where they burnish up young ladies. There's Madame Chegary's----" "I won't have her going to any French school and reading wretched French novels!" Steve threw back his head and laughed. He had such splendid, strong, white teeth. "My choice would be Rutgers Institute. It's going to be the school of the day," declared Joe. "Exactly. I was coming to that. There would be one term before vacation." "I call it all foolishness. And she'll be eighteen on her next birthday," said her mother. "If she wasn't a good scholar already--and what more _do_ you expect her to learn?" They all laughed at their mother's little ebullition of temper. "The world grows wiser every day," said Joe sententiously. "And what are you going to do, Pussy?" Steve reached over and gave the little girl's ear a soft pinch. "I am going to look up a nice school for her myself. Don't begin to worry about a child not yet eight years old," said their mother sharply. "Eight years. She'll soon be that," remarked her father with a soft sigh. And he wished he could keep her a little girl always. They went on discussing Rutgers Institute, that was one of the most highly esteemed schools of the day for young ladies. Steve looked over at his fair sister--she was _almost_ as pretty as Dolly Beekman. Dolly had some dainty, attractive ways, played on the piano and sang, and Peggy had a voice blithe as a bird. Steve was beginning to be quite a judge of young ladies and social life, and there was no reason why they should not all aim at something. They had good family names to back them. Family counted, but so did education and accomplishments. Mrs. Underhill gave in. Steve would have his way. But then he was such a good, upright, affectionate son. So when he announced that he had registered his sister, Margaret's pulses gave a great thrill of delight.