“I’ve said nothing.  Don’t like house-cleaning well enough to suggest it.  I did think the hall was rather dirty when I dropped my coat and took it up covered with lint.  Is she going to upset the whole place?” asked Mr. Bemis, looking alarmed at the prospect.

“I hope so, for I really am ashamed when people come, to have them see the dust and cobwebs, and old carpets and dirty windows,” said Molly, with a sigh, though she never had cared a bit till lately.

“Why don’t you dust round a little, then?  No time to spare from the books and play?”

“I tried, father, but Miss Bat didn’t like it, and it was too hard for me alone.  If things were once in nice order, I think I could keep them so; for I do want to be neat, and I’m learning as fast as I can.”

“It is high time someone took hold, if matters are left as you say.  I’ve just been thinking what a clever woman Miss Bat was, to make such a tidy little girl out of what I used to hear called the greatest tomboy in town, and wondering what I could give the old lady.  Now I find you are the one to be thanked, and it is a very pleasant surprise to me.”

“Give her the present, please; I’m satisfied, if you like what I’ve done.  It isn’t much, and I didn’t know as you would ever observe any difference.  But I did try, and now I guess I’m really getting on,” said Molly, sewing away with a bright color in her cheeks, for she, too, found it a pleasant surprise to be praised after many failures and few successes.

“You certainly are, my dear.  I’ll wait till the house-cleaning is over, and then, if we are all alive, I’ll see about Miss Bat’s reward.  Meantime, you go with Mrs. Grant and get whatever you and the boy need, and send the bills to me;” and Mr. Bemis lighted a cigar, as if that matter was settled.

“Oh, thank you, sir!  That will be splendid.  Merry always has pretty things, and I know you will like me when I get fixed,” said Molly, smoothing down her apron, with a little air.

“Seems to me you look very well as you are.  Isn’t that a pretty enough frock?” asked Mr. Bemis, quite unconscious that his own unusual interest in his daughter’s affairs made her look so bright and winsome.

“This?  Why, father, I’ve worn it all winter, and it’s frightfully ugly, and almost in rags.  I asked you for a new one a month ago, and you said you’d ‘see about it’; but you didn’t, so I patched this up as well as I could;” and Molly showed her elbows, feeling that such masculine blindness as this deserved a mild reproof.

“Too bad!  Well, go and get half a dozen pretty muslin and gingham things, and be as gay as a butterfly, to make up for it,” laughed her father, really touched by the patches and Molly’s resignation to the unreliable “I’ll see about it,” which he recognized as a household word.

Molly clapped her hands, old gloves and all, exclaiming, with girlish delight, “How nice it will seem to have a plenty of new, neat dresses all at once, and be like other girls!  Miss Bat always talks about economy, and has no more taste than a—­caterpillar.”  Molly meant to say “cat,” but remembering her pets, spared them the insult.