"I know it, child," Mother said, softly touching my hair. "Many things are hard. You are old enough now to know a little of the life of your elders," she went on; "and you must remember that it is absolute necessity, and not lack of sympathy, that forces Papa to say no, as he sometimes does." "Well, if he would only soften it a little," I couldn't help saying. "A blunt no is a great deal harder to bear." "I know, dear," Mother said, with a sigh; "but Father thinks he does what is best." "But what can I say, Mother. I must let them know I can't contribute. This very afternoon they'll all be talking of it." "Tell them nothing positively. Say as little as possible; and give me time to think." At this, my mind was relieved immediately. I was sure the trouble would somehow end in just the right way, though I knew Mother couldn't squeeze the money from the housekeeping allowance, even if she could think it right to do so after what Father had said. But I had faith that Mother would manage for me, so I went to school, feeling very confident, and said as little as possible. That night Mother came to my room and told me to invite all of my class to spend Thursday evening with us. "You know Grandpa sent us a barrel of apples," she said, "a bushel of nuts, and some corn to pop. May be I'll make a cake or two, and the coffee will not cost much. Fortunately, we have dishes enough. That will offset the birthday parties a little, and make you have a good time, too. If you know any really nice boys, invite them, and may be Papa'll get out his violin, and you can have a little dance." You see, Mother was a girl herself once. She doesn't forget her feelings, and she talks over such things with me just as though she were another girl. Of course I was only too delighted to obey, but still, I must confess, although it was very nice, it didn't help me out of the real difficulty a bit. It gave the girls something fresh to talk about, however; and as it would be three weeks before Mr. Atherton would leave, the subject of his present dropped out of sight for a few days. But that matter of the boys troubled me a great deal. We girls are all about fourteen and fifteen, and really, while we are almost young ladies, boys at that age are very boyish. They don't know what to do with their hands, nor how to ask one to dance, nor to do anything nicely. I mean the generality of boys; of course my brothers do, but then they have had Mamma to train them, and sisters to practice with ever since they were little, which, of course, makes a difference. If it were not that I hated to give up the dancing, and if it wasn't such a bother to dance with a girl with a handkerchief tied on her arm--because she keeps forgetting she is a boy, and taking the wrong hand and everything is put out--I should have given up the idea of asking any boys.