"No, Ellen," said Marianne, "that won't do, because we might every one get just the thing we do not want. I want one colour or stuff to go with my morocco, and you want another to go with yours; and you might get mine and I might get yours. We had best each choose in turn what we like, beginning at Isabel." "Very well," said little Ellen — "I'm agreed." "Anything for a quiet life," said George Walsh. But this business of choosing was found to be very long and very difficult, each one was so fearful of not taking the exact piece she wanted most. The elder members of the family began to gather for dinner, and several came and stood round the table where the children were; little noticed by them, they were so wrapped up in silks and satins. Ellen seemed the least interested person at table, and had made her selections with the least delay and difficulty; and now, as it was not her turn, sat very soberly looking on, with her head resting on her hand. "I declare it's too vexatious!" said Margaret Dunscombe — "here I've got this beautiful piece of blue satin, and can't do anything with it; it just matches that blue morocco — it's a perfect match — I could have made a splendid thing of it, and I have got some cord and tassels that would just do — I declare it's too bad!" Ellen's colour changed. "Well, choose, Margaret," said Marianne. "I don't know what to choose — that's the thing. What can one do with red and purple morocco and blue satin? I might as well give up. I've a great notion to take this piece of yellow satin, and dress up a Turkish doll to frighten the next young one I meet with." "I wish you would, Margaret, and give it to me when it's done," cried little Ellen Chauncey. " 'Tain't made yet," said the other dryly. Ellen's colour had changed and changed; her hand twitched nervously, and she glanced uneasily from Margaret's store of finery to her own. "Come, choose, Margaret," said Ellen Chauncey; — "I dare say Ellen wants the blue morocco as much as you do." "No, I don't!" said Ellen, abruptly, throwing it over the table to her; — "take it, Margaret, you may have it." "What do you mean?" said the other, astounded. "I mean you may have it," said Ellen — "I don't want it." "Well, I'll tell you what," said the other — "I'll give you yellow satin for it — or some of my red morocco!" "No, I had rather not," repeated Ellen; "I don't want it — you may have it." "Very generously done," remarked Miss Sophia; "I hope you'll all take a lesson in the art of being obliging." "Quite a noble little girl," said Mrs. Gillespie. Ellen crimsoned. "No, Ma'am, I am not, indeed," she said, looking at them with eyes that were filling fast; "please don't say so — I don't deserve it." "I shall say what I think, my dear," said Mrs. Gillespie, smiling; "but I am glad you add the grace of modesty to that of generosity; it is the more uncommon of the two."