“Perhaps that is the name,” admitted Abby, a trifle disconcerted.  “Anyhow, can’t we have one?”

“Well—­yes,” said her mother, after a few moments’ reflection.  “The small room next to the parlor might be arranged for that purpose.”

“That would make a beautiful al—­chapel!” exclaimed Abby.  She did not venture to attempt the long word again.

“I think I could get enough out of the carpet that was formerly on the parlor to cover the floor,” mused Mrs. Clayton aloud.  “The square table, draped with muslin and lace, would make a pretty altar.  Then, with the pictures of the Sacred Heart and the Bouguereau Madonna to hang on the walls, and my prie-dieu—­yes, Abby, I think we can manage it.”

“Oh, how splendid!” cried the little girl.  “When shall we begin to get it ready?”

“Perhaps to-morrow,” answered her mother; “but I can not promise to have the preparations completed at once.  It will take some time to plan the carpet and have it put down.”

Abby was not only satisfied, but delighted.  She told Larry the minute he came into the house.  He had been over to the pond with his boat again.

“That will be grand!” said he.  “When you get everything fixed, I’ll bring you the little vase I got for Christmas, and my prayer-book, and—­oh, yes, my rosary, to put on the altar.  And, then,” he went on, quite seriously, “there’s my catechism, and the little chalk angel, and—­”

“The little chalk angel!” repeated Abby, scornfully.  “Why, that has lost its head!”

“But it’s a little chalk angel all the same,” argued Larry.  “And if I find the head, it can be glued on.”

“Oh—­well; we don’t want any trash like that on our altar!” rejoined his sister.  “And the books and rosary can be kept on the shelf in the corner.  It would be nice to have the vase, though.”

Larry, who at first had been rather offended that his offerings were not appreciated, brightened up when he found he could at least furnish something to adorn the shrine.

The following day was Saturday.  There was, of course, no school, and Abby was free to help her mother to get the little room in order.  She was impatient to begin.  But alas for her plans!  About nine o’clock in the morning Mrs. Clayton suddenly received word that grandma was not feeling well, and she at once prepared to visit the dear old lady.

“I may be away the greater part of the day, Delia,” she said, as she tied the strings of her bonnet; “but I have given you all necessary directions, I think,—­Larry, do not go off with any of the boys, but you may play in the park as usual.—­And, Abby, be sure that you do not keep Miss Remick waiting when she comes to give you your music lesson.”

“But what about the altary—­oh, oratory I mean?” asked Abby, dejectedly.

“There is a piece of muslin in the linen press which you may take to cover the altar,” said her mother; “but do not attempt to arrange anything more.  I will attend to the rest next week.  I am sorry to disappoint you and Larry; but, you see, I can not help it.”