"I'm sorry, Dearie," Doris's mama said, "but it's bad enough to have wasted one dollar without crying about it, too. When you and I go out, we'll try to get such good things for the next dollar, that it will make up for our mistake about this one." The next bright day they went to the bank and got another dollar. Now Doris's mama was a very wise person (mamas often are). So they went to a store where there were some books that had been wet a little by the firemen when the store caught fire. There they found a large, fine book of animal stories with pictures in it that had been 50 cents, but the book-store man sold it for 10 cents, because the back cover and a little bit of the edge was stained with water and smoke. That left--how much? Ninety cents. Doris's brother had told her he would teach her to play marbles, so she bought six glass marbles for 5 cents and a hoop with a stick for 5 more. That left 80 cents. Then Doris asked if her mama thought she could buy a pair of roller skates. Her mama said they could ask how much roller skates cost, but the shopman said they were a dollar a pair! So Doris said she would save up the 80 cents that was left of her dollar and wait until she had enough for the skates. However, a little boy was looking in at the window of the toy-shop and he looked so sad, and so longingly at the toys, that Doris spoke to him, and when he said he wanted one of the red balls, she bought it for 5 cents, and gave it to him. That left 75 cents. When they got home, they told papa about the skates and he said he could get them down-town for 75 cents, and he did. So Doris learned by losing her first dollar, to get a lot of good things that would be more useful and would last longer, with her second dollar. A DUTCH TREAT BY AMY B. JOHNSON "I've been crying again, father." "Have you, sweetheart? I'm sorry." "Father." "Yes, darling." "I don't like Holland at all. I wish we had stayed in New York. And I would much rather stay in Amsterdam with you to-day than to go and see those horrid little Dutch children. I'm sure I shall hate them all." "But how about Marie? You want to see her, don't you?" "No. I'm very much annoyed with Marie. I don't see why she could not have been contented in New York. After taking care of me ever since I was a baby, she must like me better than those nieces and nephews she never saw till yesterday." "I am sure Marie loves you very dearly, Katharine, but you are getting to be such a big girl now that you no longer need a nurse, and Marie was homesick. She wished to come back to Holland years ago, but I persuaded her to stay till you were old enough to do without her, and until Aunt Katharine was ready to come to New York and live with us, promising her that when that time came you and I would come over with her, just as we have done, on our way to Paris. We must not be selfish and grudge Marie to her sisters, who have not seen her for twelve years."