And so on the “First of April” we moved. My costume was considerably demoralized when we reached our summer home. The baby had quite destroyed all the beauty my hat ever had, and my small nephew, who had insisted upon going to visit us the first day, was so timid in crossing the river that he clung to my draperies with too much fervor, and I presume that I was an object of pity to the few ladies in the cabin. Certain it is that I felt decidedly shabby, tired, and perhaps a trifle out of humor as I entered the cottage door and dropped my heavy boy on the clean, but carpetless floor. Bridget soon made her appearance with a list of the casualties, and as Jerry had not yet arrived, I was growing very gloomy when a light tap at the side entrance caused me to spring to my feet. What a picture of simplicity and purity stood before me! I blushed at the contrast which my disordered finery presented! Here on my doorstep were two little wrens (I could call them nothing else, although they were certainly girls), one just a trifle taller and larger than the other; both with soft pink cheeks and brown hair cut close on the neck and parted smoothly and evenly, without a suggestion of crimp or curl. Their dresses were of a drab color, just visible below long white aprons, on which there was not even a superfluous button! Their linen sunbonnets boasted of no ruffles, and the colored stockings, which peeped from beneath their rather long dresses, were of the same shade. Little gray birds, with just such shy little ways! The elder one looked up timidly and held toward me a basket, saying: “Mother sent thee this lunch.” “And don’t forget, Sallie,” whispered the younger, “don’t forget about the baby.” “Thee can ask that, Debby.” The only worldly looking feature between them was Debby’s blue eyes, and they sparkled and ran riot in spite of her, but her mouth was very serious as she asked: “Would it not relieve thee if Sally and I were to ’tend the baby?” then glancing at my company, “the children, I mean, while thee lies down on mother’s bed.” My eyes filled with tears at the thoughtfulness of these strangers. I had never known anything about “Quakers” before. The baby was ready enough to exchange Bridget’s charms for the dainty little ladies’, and I clasped each of his small hands in Debby’s, but instantly she transferred one-half her treasure to sister Sally, who turned demurely, and said: “Thank thee. We will watch over him, and presently, if thee thinks best, I can give him some milk.” They had not quite reached the garden when Johnny burst forth. In great wrath he was indeed. “Do they fink I am a baby!” he roared out. “Get my cap, I want to go on the boat again!” “On the boat, Johnny!” He colored, and remembering his terror, revenged himself upon me by saying: “I s’pose the reason they calls me chillen is ’cause they’s such ole womans demselves;” and having flung his parting shot he walked off with great dignity.