There was another fashion, "fads" we should call them nowadays. A school-bag--they didn't call them satchels then--was made of a piece of blue and white bed-ticking, folded at the bottom. Every white stripe you worked with zephyr worsted in briar stitch or herring-bone or feather stitch. You could use one color or several. And now the old work and the bed-ticking has come back again and ladies make the old-fashioned bags with tinsel thread. Margaret had made one, and the little girl had taken it up. She was quite an expert with her needle. She had found several delightful new books to read. The Deans had some wonderful fairy stories. She was enraptured with the "Lady of the Lake," and some of Mrs. Howitt's stories and poems. She had learned her way about, and could go out to the Bowery to do an errand for her mother. She knew some more little girls, and with her sewing, helping her mother, studying and reading and play, the days seemed too short. Vacation did not begin until the 1st of August. The boys were to go up to Yonkers and help George and Uncle Faid. They were quite ready for new ventures. When Margaret came home the last day of school with a really fine report, her mother felt quite proud of her. The little girl, with large eyes and a mysterious expression, begged her to come into the parlor and see something. She smiled and took Hanny's small hand in hers. The furniture had been moved about a little. And oh, what was this? The little girl's eyes were stars of joy. "It's your piano and mine," she said. "Yours till you get married and go away, and then mine forever and ever. Joe gave fifty dollars of his prize money toward it. Wasn't he lovely? And oh, Margaret, such beautiful music as it makes!" The little girl with one small finger struck a key. The sound seemed to fascinate her. Margaret caught her in her arms and kissed the enraptured face. "We shall be too happy, I'm afraid. I shouldn't have had the courage to ask for a piano, but it's the one thing above all others that I have wanted. Oh, it's just too delightful!" Mrs. Underhill said: "It's a great piece of wastefulness, but the boys would have it. I'm sure I don't see where you're going to get time to learn everything. And you'll never know anything about housekeeping. I should be ashamed to have any one marry you." People didn't hustle off to the country the day school closed. Indeed, some didn't go at all. The children played on the shady side of the street. The little girls had "Ring around a rosy," that I think Eve's grandchildren must have invented. Then there was "London Bridge is falling down," "Open the gates as high as the sky," and "Here come two lords quite out of Spain A-courting for your daughter faire," and after a great deal of disputing and beseeching they obtained "daughter faire," and averted war. And "Tag" never failed with its "Ana mana mona mike." You find children playing them all yet, but I think the wonderful zest has gone out of them.