The family consisted of “Fritz,” a boy of sixteen, with big, innocent, baby-blue eyes like his father, who idolized his only son, who was alike a joy and a torment.  Fritz attended the university in a near-by town, and was usually head of the football team.  He was always at the front in any mischief whatever, was noted for getting into scrapes innumerable through his love of fun, yet he possessed such a good-natured, unselfish, happy-go-lucky disposition that one always forgave him.

Black-eyed, red-cheeked Elizabeth was quick and impulsive, like her mother.  A very warm and lasting friendship sprung up between merry Elizabeth and serious Mary Midleton during Mary’s Summer on the farm, although not at all alike in either looks or disposition, and Elizabeth was Mary’s junior by several years.

The third, last and least of the Professor’s children was Pauline, or “Pollykins,” as she was always called by her brother Fritz, the seven-year-old pet and baby of the family.  A second edition of Fritz, the same innocent, questioning, violet-blue eyes, fair complexion, a kissable little mouth and yellow, kinky hair, she won her way into every one’s heart and became greatly attached to Mary, who was usually more patient with the little maid (who, I must confess, was sometimes very willful) than was her sister Elizabeth.  Mary, who had never been blessed with a sister, dearly loved children, and thought small “Polly” adorable, and never wearied telling her marvelous fairy tales.

[Illustration:  Frau Schmidt]

CHAPTER VIII.

Uses of an old-fashioned wardrobe.

Shortly after Mary’s advent at the farm she one day said:  “Aunt Sarah, the contents of this old trunk are absolutely worthless to me; perhaps they may be used by you for carpet rags.”

“Mary Midleton!” exclaimed Aunt Sarah, in horrified tones, “you extravagant girl.  I see greater possibilities in that trunk of partly-worn clothing than, I suppose, a less economically-inclined woman than I ever would have dreamed of.”

Mary handed her Aunt two blue seersucker dresses, one plain, the other striped.  “They have both shrunken, and are entirely too small for me,” said Mary.

“Well,” said her Aunt, considering, “they might be combined in one dress, but you need aprons for kitchen work more useful than those little frilly, embroidered affairs you are wearing.  We should make them into serviceable aprons to protect your dresses.  Mary, neatness is an attribute that every self-respecting housewife should assiduously cultivate, and no one can be neat in a kitchen without a suitable apron to protect one from grime, flour and dust.”

“What a pretty challis dress; its cream-colored ground sprinkled over with pink rose buds!”

Mary sighed.  “I always did love that dress, Aunt Sarah, ’Twas so becoming, and he—­he—­admired it so!”