1. That I will be Number 1 this next month at school. 2. That I will be pachient with Papa, and try to stand him. 3. That I will set Bep--yes, and Fom too, even if she is Irene's partner--a good example. 4. That I will not once this next month pinch Aunt Anne's sensative plant--no matter what she does to me. 5. That I will dust the back legs of the piano even when Mrs. Pemberton isn't expected. 6. That I will help Kate controll her temper, and not mock and aggravate her when she sulks. 7. That I will be a little mother to Frank and teach her to grow up and be a creddit to the famly. 8. That I will not steal candy out of Kate's pocket--without first begging her very hard to give me some. 9. That I will practice The Gazelle fathfully every solatary day. And give up reading on the sly while I play 5-finger exercises. 10. That I will try to bear with Irene. That I will do all I can not to fight with her--but she is a selfish devvil who is always in the wrong. And all this I solemnly promise myself without being coersed in any way, of my own free will, without let or hidrance, because I want to be good. _Cecilia Morgan Madigan_ (_called Sissy_), Aged 11 last birthday. P.S. And I feel sure I can do it all, God helping me, except Number 10--which is the hardest. * * * * * Sissy, who had been sitting writing only half dressed, folded the paper reverently, put it to her lips for lack of a seal, and then buttoned it firmly inside her corset waist. She felt so virtuous already that the carrying out of her intentions seemed really supererogatory. When she went to Irene to have her button her dress in the back, she had such a sensation of holiness, such a consciousness of a forbearing, pure, and gentle spirit, that her sister's malicious pretense of ignoring her presence appeared to her nothing less than sacrilege. "Ain't you going to button me, Split?" she demanded, indignant that her enemy, whom she was going to treat with Christ-like charity, should successfully try her temper before the ink was dry on her own promise to keep the peace. "Ask me pretty," grinned Split, whose nickname honored a gymnastic feat which no other Madigan, however athletic, could accomplish half so successfully as the second. "Say 'please.'" "I won't do anything of the sort. You know you've got to do it, and you've no right to expect me to say 'please' every time. You don't do it yourself, you hateful thing!" "Why don't you cry?" "Because I won't for you--because you can't make me--because--" "Because you are crying in spite of yourself! Because anybody can make you cry, cry-baby!" Sissy's hands flew up to her breast. It was a recognized gesture with her, a physical holding of herself together in the last minute that preceded her temperamental flying to pieces.