she said. "I know you valued that set so highly. Take mine for it."

"Oh, no, indeed," replied Dorothy, her voice strained, for the set had
been a gift from her little brother Roger, and he had used the first
money he ever earned to buy it. "Perhaps I can have it mended."

Cologne, Edna, and Tavia put their heads together. Presently they
apologized to Dorothy and left the room.

"Wonder what's up now?" Dorothy asked herself. She did feel
badly--that tea set of all the things in her room!

She recalled how Roger had written that he had a surprise for her;
then the arrival of the blue cups and saucers, and the note saying
that the boy had sold lemonade, and thus earned his first money. Then,
that he had spent the money for that set. And to think that it was
ruined, for the crash told the woeful story of many pieces!

Dorothy did not feel like finishing her packing. She felt more like
having a good cry. She was thinking of home, of her father, the major,
then of her brother Joe, older than Roger, and lastly of dear,
impetuous Roger himself.

Soon she would be home to them again! Was she not their mother ever
since she could remember? For her own darling mother had been called
away from her little ones so early in a promising life!

Sounds of voices in the hall roused her from her reverie.

Tavia entered first. But her following! Girl after girl crowded into