Two Little Women on a Holiday

"Won't like that blue sweater! Why, it's a beauty!"

"I don't mean that. I mean she won't like for me to take it,—to accept it from you."

"All right; tell her you bought it yourself."

"Tell a story about it! No, thank you." Dolly's blue eyes fairly flashed at the thought.

"Well, my stars! Dolly, don't make such a fuss about it! Throw it away, or give it to the scullery maid! You don't have to keep it!"

Clearly, Alicia was annoyed. Dolly was far from ungrateful, and she didn't know quite what to do.

"Of course, she'll keep it," Dotty broke in, anxious to straighten matters out. "She adores it, Alicia; but we girls aren't accustomed to making each other gifts,—at least, not expensive ones."

"Well, you needn't make a habit of it. One sweater doesn't make a summer! I hope Mrs. Berry won't be so squeamish! If I thought she would, I'd throw hers in the ash barrel before I'd give it to her!"

"I s'pose I was horrid about it, Alicia," said Dolly, contritely; "I do love it, really, you know I do; but, as Dotty says, we never give such gifts. Why, I can't give you anything to make up for it—"

"And I don't want you to! You little goose! But like as not, you can sometime do something for me worth more than a dozen sweaters."

"I hope so, I'm sure. Will you tell me if I can?"

"Yes, baby-face! I declare, Dolly, it's hard to realise you're fifteen years old! You act about twelve,—and look ten!"

"Oh, not so bad as that!" and Dolly laughed gaily. "I s'pose I do seem younger than I am, because I've always lived in a small town. We don't do things like city girls."

"'Deed we don't!" exclaimed Dotty. "I used to live in the city, and when I went to Berwick it was like a different world. But I've come to like it now."

"I like it," said Bernice, decidedly. "I think we have a lot more fun in Berwick than we could in New York. To live, I mean. Of course, this visit here is lovely, but it's the novelty and the strange sights that make it so. I wouldn't want to live in New York."

"Neither would I," and Dolly shook her head very positively.

"I would," said Alicia. "I'd just love to live here, in a house like Uncle Jeff's, and have all these cars and servants and everything fine."

"No, thank you," Dolly rejoined. "It's beautiful for a week, but it makes my head go round to think of living like this always."

"Your head is not very securely fastened on, anyway," and Alicia grinned at her. "You'll lose it some day!"

"Maybe so," smiled Dolly, affably, and then they suddenly found they were back home.

"Good time, girlies?" called out Mrs. Berry, as they entered. "Lunch is all ready; sit down and eat it, and get dressed for the matinee afterward, Mr. Fenn got fine seats for you,—near the front. You'll like the play, I know."

And like the play they did. It was a light opera, of the prettiest type, full of lovely scenery, gay costumes and bright, catchy music. "The Lass and the Lascar" was its name, and the lass in question was a charming little girl who seemed no older than the quartette themselves. The Lascar was a tall, handsome man, whose swarthy East Indian effects were picturesque and attractive. He had a magnificent baritone voice, and the girls sat breathless when he sang his splendid numbers. All four were fond of music and even more than the gay splendour of the show they enjoyed the voices and orchestra.