Meanwhile, the clouds had been clearing from Nan's brow, and now she called out delightedly: "You are getting 'warm', as we used to say when we played 'hunt the thimble'; you are certainly traveling toward milder climes, Evelyn. Yes, let us do something in earnest--and I know what I'm going to do, too!' "What? what?" sounded in chorus. "I'm going--to--earn--my--own--living." At each emphatic word, Nan bobbed her head in the most decisive manner. "I'm going to seek my fortune, and I'm going to try to lead a genuine existence." The girls sat stunned, with wide open eyes, till Bert suddenly pounded on the floor with heavy applause, and Evelyn asked breathlessly: "Why, Nan, has Father failed, or lost anything?" "No, _he_ hasn't," answered Nan grimly, "but I have. What have I ever done since I was graduated but drift about, vainly trying to amuse myself. Why, girls, we have _futures_ before us----" "No, not _before_ us?" laughed Bert with mock incredulity. But Nan, undisturbed by Bert's interruption, went calmly on: "Do we wish to belong to that class of helpless women who are aghast and powerless if misfortune overtakes them? Do we wish to depend on others all our lives--even if we have a fair prospect of property of our own" (looking hard at Bert). "Remember that the wheel of Fortune turns once in most lives, and _I_ shouldn't like to be flattened under it!" The attention of her hearers was suddenly startled by an exclamation from Bert, who stood up, with both hands at her heart, in apparent agony. Recovering, however, with astonishing alacrity, she murmured: "Oh, it is nothing--nothing but a barbed arrow driven home." And with this mysterious remark, she settled her hat, declared it was dinner-time, and, refusing to explain her unwonted reserve, laughingly tore herself away. (_continued_) THE PUSSIES' COATS. [Illustration] O pussies dear, It's very queer That you wear your fur coats all the year! Mamma, in May, Put hers away. I should think you'd be too warm to play. THE KELP-GATHERERS. [_A Story of the Maine Coast._] BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE. CHAPTER VI. CAMPING ON THE BEACH. The kelp-gatherers, with their tip-cart and ox-team, had in the meanwhile entered the belt of woods which stretched along the coast, back from the sea. Tall trees rose on both sides of the narrow, sandy road, their tops meeting overhead. There was on the outskirts a scanty undergrowth, which, however, soon disappeared, leaving the open aisles of the forest, with here a brown carpet of pine-needles, and there a patch of bright moss. The sun was going down. The spots and flickers of wine-colored light vanished from the boughs. The long bars of shadow, cast by the great trunks, became merged in one universal shade, and evening shut down upon the woods. Soon another sound mingled with that of the wind sweeping through the pines and firs. It was the roar of the sea.