to her muff. In the letter the doll's name
was said to be Ada, and many instructions were given as to her
behavior and studies. So Ada and Aunt Elizabeth were inseparably
connected in Edna's mind.

"I must go get Ada ready," she said, jumping down from the sofa on
which she had been sitting. "When shall I go to the city, papa?"

"Next week," he answered; and the little girl, on business intent, ran
to the playroom.

There was a great deal to do before she should go away. She reflected.
She must clean house, and see that all Ada's clothes were clean and
whole, for it would never do to let Aunt Elizabeth find that they had
not been kept carefully. "They are not all here," said the child,
sitting down on the floor. "Lilypaws tore up the muff, and Gyp ate up
one of the books; then the wind blew away an apron and a skirt that
day I washed them and put them out on the grass to dry. I'll have to
tell Aunt Elizabeth about that. She'll know it was an accident. Maybe
sister will make me some more. I'll go ask her now."

Leaving Ada with her wardrobe scattered over the nursery floor, Edna
sought sister, who was studying her lessons, curled up on the window
seat of her room. "I'm going to the city to live, next week,"
announced Edna, importantly, "and I'll have to get Ada's clothes in
order. Sister, won't you help me?"

"Going to the city!" cried Celia, lowering her book in surprise. "What
do you mean? O! you're only playing make-believe."

"No, I'm not. I am really and truly going. Papa and mamma said so. I'm
going to live with Aunt Elizabeth while they are away in Florida, and,
of course, Ada will have to go."

"And, of course, I'll help you," replied Celia, "you poor little
midget."

"I'm not poor at all," replied Edna, "for Cousin Louis is going to be
there, and I'm going to play with him in the park, and I'm going to
buy things in the beautiful shops. What shall I buy for you, sister?"

"O, I don't know. Don't buy me anything--or if you should see a belt
buckle exactly like Grace Neal's, I should like to have one, but only
if it is _exactly_."

"All right; I'll buy that and send it to you," decided Edna, very
positively, while she made up her mind to notice Grace Neal's buckle
very particularly the next time she saw her.

There was much hurry and excitement for the next week. Edna did not go
to school at all during that time, for the dressmaker was likely at
any time to want her to stand up to be fitted, something Edna did not
like at all. "I believe I'd just as soon go to school," she fretted
while Miss Marsh, with her mouth full of pins, pinched up here, and
trimmed off there, bidding the little girl to "stand still."

"I am standing as still as a mouse," she protested.

"About as still as that canary bird," returned Miss Marsh. "Don't
shrug your shoulders while I cut out this armhole. I might snip you
with the scissors."

That was something really to be dreaded, so Edna did stand very still
while the cold steel points circled her plump shoulder. "O, dear!" she
sighed, when the operation was finished, "I hope I sha'n't need any
more clothes for a year."

But even the discomfort of dress-fitting did not do away with the
pleasure the little girl felt in her pretty new frocks, and it seemed
no time before her trunk stood ready packed and she had said good-bye
to Gyp and Lilypaws, to Bobby in his cage, and to the chickens, each
and every one; her own special pet hen, Snowflake, being entreated not
to hatch out any new chickens till Edna should return.

It was rather a solemn moment, after all, when mamma hugged her and
kissed her, with the tears running down her cheeks; when the cook,
Jane, hoped they'd see her again; and when the boys thrust parting
gifts into her hands--Frank a small mouth organ, and Charlie a wad of
something which was afterward discovered to be taffy, wrapped in brown
paper; when Celia winked away the tear-drops from her lashes and
called