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“Now, Ursula,” said Cousin Anne, “we have made all our purchases. Suppose you choose frocks for the children at home.”

“Oh, me?” cried poor Ursula, forgetting grammar. She blushed very red, and looked, not without indignation, into Anne Dorset's mild eyes. “You know I have not any money; you know we can't afford it!” she cried, with starting tears.

“But I can,” said Cousin Anne; “at least, I have some money just now. Money always goes, whether one buys things or not,” she added, with a little sigh. “It runs through one's fingers. When one has something to show for it, that is always a satisfaction. Come, this would be pretty for little Amy; but it is you who must choose.”

“But, Cousin Anne! Dresses! If it was a necktie or a ribbon; but frocks—”

“Frocks would be most useful, wouldn't they? One for Amy, and one for Janey. I suppose Robin does not wear frocks now?”

“He has been in knickerbockers these two years,” said Ursula, half proud, half sorry; “and the worst of it is, they can't be made at home. Papa says, boys' clothes made at home are always spoiled, and the tailor is so dear. Oh, Cousin Anne, are you really, really going to be so very, very good—!”