so, Flora dear," said Roth, in a troubled tone.

"How are you to help me, if I don't tell you just what I think and feel?"

"Perhaps, if you were to let your mother see and know that you wanted to help her, and make things bright, and talk with her——"

"Talk!" interrupted Flora; "I don't believe she would do it, even if I were to try."

"Oh, but have you tried yet?" asked Ruth, looking up archly. "You cannot tell until you do."

"Very well," said Flora, laughing, "I guess I shall try. But there is another thing," and the troubled look returned to her face. "It is about the boys, my brothers. They stay at home scarcely ever. I don't know where they go so often, and I am sure mother does not, and I don't believe she cares—you need not look grave again, Ruth—I don't. Harry and Alec seem to be good boys, and it is a pity they are not restrained. They may get into bad company—if they are not in it already—and do something dreadful, and bring disgrace on us all. What can I do about that?"

"It would take a wiser head than mine to tell you that," Ruth answered; "but you might try and see if you could not make it so pleasant at home they would not care to be away so much."

"It seems pretty plain to me that that is easier to say than to do," retorted Flora, just a little impatiently.

"Yes, I know," assented Ruth, meekly; "I don't pretend to be a Solomon; I only said you might try."

"I don't believe they would stay for me," contended Flora, stubbornly.

"That is another thing you have never tried yet," said Ruth, smiling mischievously.

"That is so," laughed Flora, as she took two or three curly parings, and put them on Ruth's hair, to show penitence for her contrariety. "I guess I had better not talk any more, until I have tried to do something. I don't know how to begin my reformatory measures, but I suppose all will be well if I start with 'whatsoever.'"

By this time the apples were finished, and she rose to go.

"You haven't remired my doll's things," said Jem, reproachfully.

"So I have not," said Flora, and she sat down beside the little seamstress, and began to "remire" the various articles held up for inspection. She was compelled to see through Jem's eyes, however, for the shapes of the garments were not so striking or familiar as to suggest their names.

When at length she reluctantly took her leave, Ruth invited her to come soon again, to which she laughingly replied she certainly should. After this, matters went on more pleasantly at Flora's home. She busied herself with making the house look as cosy and as attractive as the shabby furniture and worn carpet would admit. She succeeded beyond her own expectations. She was gratified also that her brothers seemed to enjoy the improved condition of affairs, and so did her father when he was at home. Lottie's potato was now adding its mite to the general reform, and was sprouting nicely, sending its delicate white roots downward into the clear water, and its closely folded leaflets upward, to grow green in the warm sunlight. It seemed to be quite at home in the bright window. Flora had ceased to dream when she looked at her quaint friend. The days now, were too full to build air-castles. Mrs. Hazeley was pleased to shift her responsibility to Flora, who enjoyed nothing better than to have all her time occupied. Often, when tangles would come, Flora would run over to the ever-sympathetic Ruth, and receive advice from her. Thus, in being busy, Flora became more content, and often, as she thought of Aunt Sarah, she knew she would not be found fretting.

She had not yet attempted to influence the boys by word, but they soon noticed the new air of homeliness pervading the rooms, and consequently did not go out so much as had been their custom. Alec, the younger boy, was very mercurial and mischievous, while Harry, the elder, was quiet, and fond of reading.

One evening Harry seemed to be more than usually inclined to be sociable, and gave his mother and sister an animated account of something that had happened "down town," that day. When he finished he took up his book, and was just preparing to read, when Flora, eyeing the volume distrustfully, asked:

"What are you reading, Harry?"

Harry looked up at her quizzically, and answered her question by another.

"Why? What is it to you, anyway?"

"Nothing," said Flora, rather disconcerted. She was unaccustomed to boys, and had but little tact in dealing with them.

"I thought so," replied Harry, coolly, returning to his book.

"Will you not tell me what you are reading?" again asked Flora, not willing to be so easily vanquished.

"Why do you want to know?" demanded Harry, looking at her suspiciously.

Flora's lips again framed "nothing," but no sound came, for like a flash she thought, "If I say that, he will say, 'I thought so,' as he did before. No, I will give a reason," so she said:

"You seemed to be so interested in it, I thought it must be very entertaining."

"So it is," replied Harry, throwing a mischievous glance over to the corner at Alec, where he sat thoroughly engrossed in his favorite pastime of whittling, and in serene thoughtlessness allowing the clippings to fall according to their own sweet will.

Harry was confident that Flora intended to "read him a lecture upon trashy literature," as he afterward privately told Alec. He replied:

"It is interesting, Flo, about murders, and bears, cut-throats and burglars, and other horrors that would make you nervous to read about."

"I am not made nervous so easily as you may think, my dear boy," retorted Flora, condescendingly, and at the same time glancing cautiously at Harry, to see what effect this would have.

She had determined to try and gain an influence over her brothers, and felt that to show an interest in their occupations would be a good beginning. She realized the task she thus imposed on herself, but she meant to do her best, for this was another "whatsoever."

Harry was for a moment too much surprised to speak. Then he said, saucily:

"Ah, indeed! Well, let me read some to you."

"I shall be glad for you to read to me, if you will read a story I have just started. I feel sure you will enjoy it. If yours is a book for boys only, I fear I could not appreciate it."

"Oh, you couldn't?" said Harry. "Why not, may I ask?"

But Flora was up and away ere the sentence was completed. Harry congratulated himself on having put her to flight, and returned to his book with a self-satisfied smile. Flora, however, had only gone to her room for a paper. Hurrying back, she spread it before astonished Harry, and, pointing to its columns, said, in a peculiarly persuasive manner:

"Now, Hal, I would be ever so glad if you would read that story aloud to us, while I crochet, and Alec whittles on the floor."

Alec looked confused, and began to pick up some of the litter he had made.

"Never mind, Alec," said Flora, laughing, "I will clear it up this time. Could you not put a newspaper under you to catch the cuttings, another time?"

"All right," said Alec, looking relieved.

"We are all ready, Harry," said Flora, sitting down and taking up her work.

"Humph!" said Harry, glancing carelessly down the page. "There's nothing in such a story. I don't want to read it. It is too flat."

"You are mistaken," replied Flora, spiritedly. "It's not a bit flat, and there is something in it. It is about a brave boy who saved a train."

"Oh, yes, I know," said Harry, skeptically, "and was not hurt."

"Yes, but he did get hurt.