"You can give us a manuscript copy, Quentina. We would love that," interposed Genevieve, hurriedly. Behind Quentina's back she gave Tilly then a frowning shake of the head--though it must be confessed that her dancing eyes rather spoiled the effect of it. "Maybe it's because her name rhymes--'Clorinda Dorinda,'" suggested Tilly, interestedly; "maybe that's why she likes to write poetry so well." Mrs. Jones laughed. "That's what her father says. But Clorinda herself changed her own name about as soon as she could talk. She couldn't manage the hard 'Clorinda' very well, and I had a Mexican nurse girl, Quentina, whose name she much preferred. So very soon she was calling herself 'Quentina,' and insisting that every one else should do the same." "But it's so much prettier," declared the minister's daughter, fervently. "Of course 'Clorinda Dorinda' are some pretty, because they rhyme so, but I like 'Quentina' better. Besides, there are lots more pretty words to make that rhyme with--Florena, Dulcina, Rowena, and verbena, you know." "And 'you've seen her,'" suggested Tilly, gravely. Quentina frowned a moment in thought. "Y-yes," she admitted; "but I don't think that's a very pretty one." It was Genevieve this time who choked a giggle into a cough, and who, a moment later, turned very eagerly to welcome an interruption in the person of the Rev. Mr. Jones. Soon after this Quentina suggested a trip through the house. "You see I want to show you where you're going to sleep," she explained. "Oh, Mr. Jones told us that," observed Tilly, as the seven girls trooped up the narrow stairway. "He said we were to stand up in the corners." Tilly spoke with the utmost gravity. Quentina turned, wide-eyed. "Why, you couldn't! You'd never sleep a bit," she demurred concernedly. "Besides, it isn't necessary." All but Tilly and Genevieve tittered audibly. Tilly still looked the picture of innocence. Genevieve frowned at her sternly, then stepped forward and put her arm around Quentina's waist. "Tilly was only joking, Quentina," she explained. "When you know Tilly better you'll find she never by any chance talks sense--but always nonsense," she finished, looking at Tilly severely. Tilly wrinkled up her nose and pouted; but her eyes laughed. "There, here's my room," announced Quentina, a moment later. "We've put a couch in it, and if you don't mind my sleeping with you, three can be here. Then across the hall here is the twins' room, and two more can sleep in this; and Paul and Ned's room down there at the end of the hall will take the other two. There! You see we've got it fixed right well." "Oh, yes--well for us; but how about the boys?" cried Genevieve. "Where will they sleep?" Quentina's lips parted, but before the words were uttered, a new thought seemed to have come to her. With an odd little glance at Tilly, she drawled demurely: "Oh, they are going to sleep in the corners." They all laughed this time.