“Well, my son, you’ve made a hard day’s work for me,” said Mrs. Clifford, smiling behind her coffee-cup, as eager little Katie swayed back and forth in her high chair.

“You won’t get me to tell, Gracie Clifford.  She don’t want nobody but Hollis and me; she thinks we’re very ’cute.”

“Who?  O, Aunt Louise, probably.”

“No, aunt Louise never!  It’s the auntie that lives to New York.”

“Sh, Topknot!”

“Well, I didn’t tell, Hollis Clifford!”

“So you didn’t,” said Grace.  “But wouldn’t it be nice if somebody should ask you to go somewhere to spend Christmas?”

“Well, there is!”

“O, Topknot,” cried Horace, in mock distress, “you said you could keep a secret.”

Flyaway looked frightened.

“What’d I do?” cried she; “I didn’t tell nuffin ’bout the letter!”

This last speech set everybody to laughing; and the little tell-tale looked around from one to another with a face full of innocent wonder.  They couldn’t be laughing at her!

“I can keep secrids,” said she, with dignity.  “It was what I was a-doin’.”

“It is your brother Horace who cannot be trusted to keep secrets,” said Mrs. Clifford, taking a letter from her pocket.  “Hear, now, what your Aunt Madge has written:  ’Will you lend me your children for the holidays, Maria?  I want all three; at any rate, two.’”

“That’s me,” cried Flyaway, tipping over her white coffee; “’tenny rate two,’ means me.”

“Don’t interrupt me, dear.  ’Brother Edward has promised me Prudy and Dotty Dimple.  They may have a Santa Claus, or whatever they like.  I shall devote myself to making them happy, and I am sure there are plenty of things in New York to amuse them.  Horace must come without fail; for the little girl-cousins always depend so much upon him.’”

A smile rose to Horace’s mouth; but he rubbed it off with his napkin.  It was his boast that he was above being flattered.

“But why not have Grace go, too, to keep them steady?” said Mr. Clifford, bluntly.

Horace applied himself to his buckwheat cakes in silence, and looked rather gloomy.

“Why, I suppose, Henry, it would hardly be safe to send Grace, on account of her cough.”

“I’m so sorry you asked Dr. De Bruler a word about it, mamma; but I suppose I must submit,” said Grace, with a face as cloudy as Horace’s.

“Horace, my son, do you really feel equal to the task of taking this tuft of feathers to New York?”

“I don’t know why not, father; I’m willing to try.”

“Horace has good courage,” said Grace, shaking her auburn curls like so many exclamation points.  “I never could!  I never would!  I’d as soon have the care of a flying squirrel!”

“Hollis never called me a squirl,” said Fly, demurely.  “I’ve got two brothers, and one of ’em is an angel, and the other isn’t; but Hollis is ’most as good as the one up in the sky.”