lost my blue-edged handkerchief--Flora, have you seen it?"

"No; but here is your red scarf."

"Thank you, there is a good Flora. And oh! I finished a frock all
but two stitches. Where is it gone? Go on, all of you, I'll
overtake you:


"Purer than breath of earthly fame,
Is losing self in a glorious aim.


"Is that better, Norman?"

"You'll drive us out of patience," said Flora, tying the handkerchief
round Ethel's throat, and pulling out the fingers of her gloves,
which, of course, were inside out; "are you ready?"

"Oh, my frock! my frock! There 'tis--three stitches--go on, and I'll
come," said Ethel, seizing a needle, and sewing vehemently at a
little pink frock. "Go on, Miss Winter goes slowly up the hill, and
I'll overtake you."

"Come, Norman, then; it is the only way to make her come at all."

"I shall wait for her," said Norman. "Go on, Flora, we shall catch
you up in no time;" and, as Flora went, he continued, "Never mind
your aims and fames and trumpery English rhymes. Your verses will be
much the best, Ethel; I only went on a little about Mount Vesuvius