"No, Ernestine, I spoke quite as decidedly the first time you asked me. Be all ready to go by this day week, you have not much sewing to do. Good-bye, once more, my girls; be careful of the lights, take good care of yourselves and do not get sick. Write to Jean to-morrow, a nice long letter and tell her everything. Good-bye." So she went away again, and nothing discouraged at her inability to secure Olive's dress, Ernestine danced gayly into the house and off to her room, to overlook, for the dozenth time, her little collection of trinkets, and to sing blithely over her dresses; for she did possess the spirit of coming down cheerfully to any thing inevitable excepting work, and then, perhaps, mama would relent at the final moment, when she saw how much a black dress was really needed. "It's as lonesome as a desert, and Ernestine is selfish as a pig," declared Kittie, subsiding gloomily on to the stairs as the hack rattled out of sight. "Two solemn facts, but they won't wash the dishes," rejoined Kat, balancing over the bannisters, in a way that threatened immediate perpendicularity, with a change of base from what was customary. "I hate dishes and dish-pans and everything," exclaimed Kittie with much vehemence. "Any how, this is your week to wash, and mine to wipe; go along and get the old things ready, and I'll be out in a minute." "I'll change with you next week," said Beatrice turning from the door, where she had stood contemplatively. "You and Kat may tend to all the sweeping, and dusting, and keeping the house in order, and I'll do the kitchen work." "Hurrah, will you?" cried Kittie, flying up from her despondent attitude. "You're a jewel, Bea, shake hands." Bea surrendered her hand with some misgiving, rightfully conjecturing that it would receive a shake and twist of over-powering heartiness in the high tide of Kittie's spirits; and that young lady, having done her best to dislocate that useful member, rushed off to impart the news to Kat, and swing her dish rag jubilantly. The change of instruments, as the girls said, took place Monday morning. Bea awoke, to find her bed-posts ornamented variously, with a dish-pan, a flaunting rag and two scrupulously neat towels, while there was a sound of revelry in the lower hall, which would indicate that the twins were up, and at their new branch of work, with a vigor which novelty always imparts to labor. Not that there was anything so novel to a broom or dust-pan, but they were so tired of their work, that Bea's really seemed delightful and easy and much to be envied. "You must have been anxious to get to work," said that sister, coming down the stairs with her post ornaments, and interrupting a lively skirmish, where brooms flew around through the air, with a cheerful disregard for the swinging lamp, or any one's head.