Glancing around the room, she found the arrowroot; the boy was fed, and soon fell asleep. Beulah sat in a low rocking-chair, by the hearth, holding the infant, and watching the little figure opposite. Annie was trying to fit a new silk waist to her doll, but it was too broad one way and too narrow another. She twisted and jerked it divers ways, but all in vain; and at last, disgusted by the experiment, she tore it off and aimed it at the fire, with an impatient cry. "The plagued, bothering, ugly thing! My Lucia never shall wear such a fit." Beulah caught the discarded waist, and said quietly: "You can very easily make it fit, by taking up this seam and cutting it out in the neck." "I don't believe it." "Then, hand me the doll and the scissors, and I will show you." "Her name is Miss Lucia-di-Lammermoor. Mr. Green named her. Don't say 'doll'; call her by her proper name," answered the spoiled child, handing over the unfortunate waxen representative of a not less unfortunate heroine. "Well, then, Miss Lucia-di-Lammermoor," said Beulah, smiling. A few alterations reduced the dress to proper dimensions, and Annie arrayed her favorite in it, with no slight degree of satisfaction. The obliging manner of the new nurse won her heart, and she began to chat pleasantly enough. About two o'clock Mrs. Martin returned, inquired after Johnny, and again absented herself to "see about dinner." Beulah was very weary of the close, disordered room, and as the babe amused himself with his ivory rattle, she swept the floor, dusted the furniture, and arranged the chairs. The loud ringing of a bell startled her, and she conjectured dinner was ready. Some time elapsed before any of the family returned, and then Laura entered, looking very sullen. She took charge of the babe, and rather ungraciously desired the nurse to get her dinner. "I do not wish any," answered Beulah. At this stage of the conversation the door opened, and a boy, seemingly about Eugene's age, entered the room. He looked curiously at Beulah, inclined his head slightly, and joined his sister at the fire. "How do you like her, Laura?" he asked, in a distinct undertone. "Oh, I suppose she will do well enough! but she is horribly ugly," replied Laura, in a similar key. "I don't know, sis. It is what Dr. Patton, the lecturer on physiognomy, would call a 'striking' face." "Yes, strikingly ugly, Dick. Her forehead juts over, like the eaves of the kitchen, and her eyebrows--"