"Two more to hear from yet," said Beatrice, as silence fell. "Jeanie, have you spent all your quarters?" "No," said Jean slowly and with much hesitation, "I had two dollars and spent one for a sash." "And I borrowed the other," interrupted Ernestine, seeing that the child did not want to tell on her. "How much have you, Olive?" "I made no promise to tell," leaped to Olive's lips; but instead of speaking it, she electrified them by saying, with a quiet smile of satisfaction, "Thirty dollars." It did more than surprise them; it was almost a stun for a minute or two; then Ernestine slowly opened her lips: "Why, Olive Dering! wherever did you get it? If you'd never spent a cent of your allowance, papa hasn't been paying us long enough for it to amount to that." "I suppose, for a girl that isn't a fool, there are more ways of getting money than sitting down with her hands folded and letting her father give it to her," retorted Olive with a snap. "That's so, Olive," echoed Beatrice, with a heartiness that made them jump. "But what did you do? tell us quick; see every one of us stiff with curiosity." It just occurred to Olive to let them remain stiff with curiosity, but perhaps an amount of satisfaction in the way she had earned her money is what changed her mind; at any rate, she began more readily than the others expected: "I sold the old iron out in the barn, and several bags of rags; then I've done some writing for papa's clerk, because he was hurried; and last week I sold my picture. Of my allowance I only spent enough for two pairs of gloves, that have lasted me with mending; so that's how I made my money." "Blessings on you!" cried Kat enthusiastically. "I look upon you as a model, Olive, a living----" "Nothing of the kind," interrupted Olive sharply, and rising up out of her corner, as if warming to the subject. "I'm only trying to be sensible; we're all old enough to be that, and be something more too. I wonder if we are never going to do anything but sit here at home, with papa to feed and dress us, besides giving us an allowance for little things and nonsense. I think it's wrong, and lazy, and a namby pamby way of being a useless thing, just because you are a girl! Besides, papa is worried and troubled; yes he is;--" warming still more at the breathless attention given her. "The other night, he and mama talked for hours, and I couldn't help hearing a little, because the transom was open. His voice was troubled, so was mama's, and sad, and he said something about 'lessening expenses,' and the difficulty of getting any ready money, and all that, and I believe in my heart that we ought to help him!" Into the stunned silence that followed this outburst from short-spoken, reticent Olive, there came a new voice; such a sweet, lovely voice with a tender ring that made every one start to welcome the speaker. "How dark you are, dears. Are all my steps here?"