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Updated: June 4, 2025
"Are all of you girls going to be dressed alike?" asked Tom. "No, sir. Delia is to be maid of honor. She's to wear the most delicate shade of pink you can imagine. The Ethels are to have a shade that is just a wee bit darker, and Margaret and I are to come last " "Being the tallest." " wearing real rose-colored frocks. It's going to be beautiful."
"And tell them that the planting at the graded school as far as it goes, was done by three little girls," suggested Tom, grinning at the disgusted faces with which the Ethels and Dorothy heard themselves called "little girls"; "that ought to put them to shame." "Isn't the easiest way to call their attention to it to have a piece in the paper?" asked Ethel Brown.
The graduating class found the idea of the banner most attractive, but when it came to the making they were aghast at the expense. A committee examined the prices at places in New York where such decorations were made and returned horrified. It was then that the Ethels offered to do their best to help out the Class of 1915.
"We might as well go home if she's too tired to walk and too restless to ride," decided Ethel Brown, and they turned about, to the evident pleasure of the baby. As they were returning along Church Street but were still at a distance from Dorothy's house Elisabeth suddenly gave a chirrup of delight. The Ethels looked about to see the cause of this unexpected expression of joy.
The blotter was green and the Ethels had made a string basket out of which came the end of a ball of green twine, and a set of filing envelopes, neatly arranged in a portfolio of heavy green cardboard. All of the family had helped make the Chautauqua scrapbook that was Mrs. Emerson's principal gift from her grandchildren.
Morton's care all those of suitable size that came to Buffalo for her. She opened one after another: books, hair ribbons, a pair of silk stockings for dancing school, a tiny silver watch on a long chain. Mr. and Mrs. Emerson had added to her store a racquet like the Ethels'. More numerous than those of any of the others were Dicky's presents, and they were varied, indeed.
"Of course the Miss Clarks are lovely about it, but you can't do things as if it were really yours." Almost at the same instant both the Ethels gave a cry as each discovered a plant she had been looking for. "Mine is wild ginger, I'm almost sure," exclaimed Ethel Brown. "Come and see, Dorothy." "Has it a thick, leathery leaf that lies down almost flat?" asked Dorothy, running to see for herself.
For even painters must eat and be lodged, the aboriginal habitations are not of elastic capacity, the inns are of feeble digestion, and the third summer of an artistic invasion is sure to find "Ethels" and "Mabels" in red brick and stunning whitewash, and, like our row of laborers' cottages, cursed by artists, but inhabited by them.
Thus it will be seen, that in his communication with certain friends who approached nearer to his own time of life, Clive was much more eloquent and rhapsodical than in the letter which he wrote to his father, regarding his passion for Miss Ethel. He celebrated her with pencil and pen. A frequenter of his studio might see a whole gallery of Ethels there represented: when Mrs.
The Ethels had planned beforehand what they were going to have for supper and the part that each was to take in the preparations. When the aprons had been taken off and the guests were all seated at the table the supper went swimmingly.
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