“And what a shame that papa has to call us up for such a thing. Minnie, this is your week—naughty girl! and you must be scolded for negligence,” said Lisa, shaking her dignified head at the culprit. Minnie ran behind her father, peeped into his face as she poked hers under his arm, and raised her saucy eyes to his. She was the youngest, and consequently a privileged imp, depending upon every one else to mend and darn when her turn came. “Go away, you wild girl,” said her father, smiling. “Rose is the most industrious of you all, for she is dressed before any of you.” “Rose is housekeeper, and had to be up, papa; don’t inflate her with praise she does not deserve. I have been up an hour.” “An hour! and what were you doing, Miss?” “_Je flanais_—there’s French for you, in good earnest; and I heard the first bird that sang this morning,” answered Minnie, with a gay laugh. “I was making reflections of the most profound nature when you disturbed me—and thus the world has lost a lesson.” “And I have been reading La Bruyère before my dressing glass,” said Blanche, complacently, as soon as the mirth that followed Minnie’s speech had subsided. “Well, I have been at work already,” added Lisa, as she drew herself up. Lisa was the tall one, and had the air of a princess. “Oh, Lisa! _you_ remind one of the old lady who sat in her rocking chair and did nothing, ‘From morning till night, But darn, darn, darn;’” and Kate’s merry black eyes danced about from one to the other. “Now, _I_ have been writing verses.” “Yes, be an authoress—scribbler, and have a mania for dirt, disorder and ink-stands. Pshaw! look at your fingers,” said Lisa, pointing to them. “I’ll wash them—I’ll wash them!” cried Kate, “without mumbling over ugly spots, like Lady Macbeth. My little nail brush will do more than all her perfumes.” And running to her room she went to work to verify her word. Soon they all met at breakfast, and Lisa presided at the cheerful board, like the mother bird, while the rest chatted around her. She was not the eldest but the most thoughtful, and to her all came for assistance and advice. Her long fingers could fashion dresses, collars, ruffs, bonnets, if necessary, and her ingenuity trampled upon impossibilities with every new pattern that appeared. So, while Blanche busied her fine head with metaphysics, piano, harp and guitar, the three others learned from both to be agreeable and useful members of society. Society they cared little for. Blanche had been a belle par excellence until she became tired and disgusted with admiration and lovers, whose name was legion. Lisa never liked one or the other. She contemplated balls and beaux at a distance, and called them absurdities, though nothing pleased her like dressing her sister, and seeing her courted and flattered, night after night and day after day.