“I couldn’t lie still, Frieda,” she said apologetically. “I did leave my hair for you to do; I knew I could never make such a bow as you tie. But I wished I was a lot of girls to dress; I didn’t know what to do, I’ve been up so long. I wanted to make my bed, but I was afraid it would be wrong to make a bed in New York. I always made my own bed at Aunt Rebecca’s.” “It’s hard to get out of the habit of a thing,” said Frieda, uncertain what she ought to reply to this statement. “Yes,” cried Beth eagerly. “Aunt Rebecca says we ought to be very careful about habits. She says they are just like poppies in a vegetable garden; you get the package of seeds in the first place yourself, but after that they keep on growing in spite of you. Still, I must say I like poppies in the vegetables; they look perfectly lovely in through the peas and standing up over the beets and the spinach. But Aunt Rebecca always made me watch when the dear little seed cups turned brown and told me to gather all the seeds. But they came up every year just the same. She says that’s the way with habits. Only I’m not as sure as I ought to be that I was very, very careful to catch every single seed! They are so tiny! It was hard not to spill any, but I’m not certain sure I cared if I gathered them when the wind blew and they were bound to spill. I guess we don’t always care if we don’t get over our habits, either. I have the habit of reading when I eat, and I don’t believe I ever tried my best to get over it--it is just like poppy seeds, after all!” “We put poppy seeds on the top of our bread in Germany,” said Frieda gathering up Beth’s hair in her left hand, preparatory to tying it with the admired bow. She found Beth lovable, but perplexing. “You mustn’t make your bed, Miss Beth,” she added. “Even I wouldn’t do that; that’s the chambermaid’s work.” “I should think it would be dreadfully hard never to do something somebody else ought to do when there are so many people to do every little thing,” said Beth. “That’s even a lovelier, stickier-up bow than the plaid ribbon last night, Frieda,” she added, beaming at the blue ribbon now crowning her. It matched the pretty gown waiting its new wearer--for that was the way Beth thought of the dresses her aunt had bought her. “They all are like lovely New York pieces of nice girls, waiting to get acquainted with me,” she had said to Frieda the previous night when her maid was folding and hanging up the beautiful garments which had come home for Beth. “You are ready now, Miss Beth,” said Frieda. “You will find all the family in the breakfast room, where you had supper the night you came. Mrs. Cortlandt always comes down when Mr. Cortlandt is at home. She likes to have her family breakfast together, and she won’t let her children get up late.”