"It seems to me," Miss Priscilla was saying, "that spring has really come at last. I saw a fly in the library yesterday morning. I didn't speak of it to you, for I thought I might have been mistaken, as I had on my near-glasses, but Martha says she saw it too, so there can be no doubt about it. And I think, Dorinda, that as we go to the sewing-society to-morrow, and it may rain the next day, I think that to-day we will clean the attic." "Yes, sister," said Miss Dorinda, "it is quite time, and we will set about it at once." Cleaning the attic was a mere figure of speech, for how can any one clean what is already spick and span, and speckless? But although frequent periodical sweepings and dustings kept every nook and cranny of Primrose Hall as bright as a new penny, yet a semi-annual housecleaning occurred as regularly as the spring and fall came; and, indeed, I daresay the Misses Flint thought that spring and fall were invented as comfortable seasons for the performance. The morning-room at Primrose Hall had a wide bay-window in which were two great arm-chairs facing each other, and in these chairs the two ladies sat every morning while they systematically planned the day's occupations. Near Miss Priscilla's hand was a bell, and after she had pressed it, Bridget, the cook, appeared--automatically, it seemed--in the doorway, which, by the way, she nearly filled. Miss Priscilla gave her the kitchen orders for the day, then dismissed her and rang for Martha, the waitress. Then Martha came and stood in the doorway. She was a pretty young German girl, and seemed to be attired principally in starched pieces. "Martha," said Miss Priscilla, pleasantly, "to-day we will clean the attic. Send Matthew after Mrs. Dolan and her granddaughter to assist us, and we will start at ten o'clock." Martha disappeared with a starchy rustle, and Miss Priscilla and Miss Dorinda went to make their toilettes for the great event. Their housecleaning costumes had been renewed, but never varied, during many springs and falls; and when attired for the fray, each good lady wore a black stuff skirt, short and scant, a white muslin sacque with a bit of neat embroidery at throat and wrists, and a huge checked gingham apron. As Miss Priscilla observed, "No one can work if she is conscious of her clothes," and this garb had been chosen as the best possible compromise between usefulness and comeliness. On their dignified heads the sisters wore ruffled sweeping-caps made of shiny muslin, and in the way of accoutrements, each carried a pair of scissors, a ball of string, a paper of pins, some sheets of paper, and a pencil.