"I'm sure they don't," said Molly, ringing for the maid, "though they'd like to if they could, and are always jealous when grandpa makes me a present." "Of course they are, and they manage to get more than their fair share, too," acquiesced the mother in a tone of irritation; "but do you see to it that they don't get ahead of you at Ion; remember Elsie is as rich as a Jew, and likes the credit of being generous, so keep on the right side of her, if you want handsome presents." "I'm sure she is generous and doesn't give only for the credit of it," said Molly. "Don't give me any impudence," returned her mother sharply. "Rachel," to the maid who just then came in in answer to the bell, "dress Miss Molly first, and be quick about it." Enna superintended the business in person, and in a way that sorely tried the temper and nerves of both Molly and the maid; the child's sash must be tied and retied, her hat bent this way and that, her collar and brooch changed again and again, till she was ready to cry with impatience; and when at last she started for the door, she was called back, and Rachel ordered to change her slippers for gaiter boots. "I don't want to wear them!" cried Molly, fairly stamping with impatience. "The heels are so high and narrow, I can't bear them." "They're just the style and make your foot look beautiful," said her mother, "sit down and let Rachel put them on you." "Grandpa says they're dangerous, and so does Dr. Barton, too," grumbled Molly. "Put them on her, Rachel," commanded Enna. "Molly, behave yourself, or you'll stay at home." The child submitted rather sullenly, muttering that she would be late. Rachel was fastening the second boot, when Isadore and Virginia were heard running down the stairs, calling out that the carriage was at the door. "There! I knew you'd make me too late!" cried Molly. "Oh, Rachel, do hurry!" "Yes, Miss Molly, best I kin; dar dat's de las' button." Up sprang Molly, and away in hot haste. She gained the landing, caught her heel in the carpet on the first step of the next flight, and a wild shriek rang through the house, accompanied by the sound of a heavy body tumbling and rolling down the stairs. Echoing the scream, Enna rushed out into the upper hall. Calhoun at the foot of the stairs, was picking Molly up. "Is she hurt? Is she killed?" asked the mother, "Molly, Molly, how did you come to be so awkward?" "I wasn't! it was those heels; I knew they'd throw me down some day!" cried the child in tones of mingled anger, fright and pain. "H'm! you're not killed; haven't even had the temper knocked out of you," remarked Enna, going back to her dressing. "Poor child, you must be hurt," said Calhoun, laying her gently on a sofa, "but no bones broken, I hope?" "I--I don't know," sobbed Molly, "it's my back. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"