She looked like a thrifty little housewife as she sat with her basket beside her full of neat white rolls, her spools set forth, and a new pair of scissors shining on the table.

There was a sort of charm in watching the busy needle flash to and fro, the anxious pucker of the forehead as she looked to see if the stitches were even, and the expression of intense relief upon her face as she surveyed the finished button-hole with girlish satisfaction.

Her father was wide awake and looking at her, thinking, as he did so,-- "Really the old lady has worked well to change my tomboy into that nice little girl: I wonder how she did it." Then he gave a yawn, pulled off the handkerchief, and said aloud, "What are you making, Molly ?" for it struck him that sewing was a new amusement.
"Shirts for Boo, sir.

Four, and this is the last," she answered, with pardonable pride, as she held it up and nodded toward the pile in her basket.
"Isn't that a new notion?
I thought Miss Bat did the sewing," said Mr.
Bemis, as he smiled at the funny little garment, it looked so like Boo himself.
"No, sir; only yours.

I do mine and Boo's.