These workmen were lodged at the hotel, which had never entertained so many guests at one time in all its past history.

The three girls, even more excited and full of awe than the townspeople, were at the office early and late, taking note of everything installed and getting by degrees a fair idea of the extent of their new plaything.
"It almost takes my breath away, Uncle," said Patsy.

"You've given the _Tribune_ such a splendid start that we must hustle to make good and prove we are worthy your generosity." "I sat up last night and wrote a poem for the first page of the first number," announced Louise earnestly.
"Poems don't go on the first page," observed Patsy; "but they're needed to fill in with.

What's it about, dear ?" "It's called 'Ode to a Mignonette,'" answered Louise.

"It begins this way: "Wee brown blossom, humble and sweet, Content on my bosom lying, Who would guess from your quiet dress The beauty there is lying Under the rust ?" "Hm," said Patsy, "I don't see as there's any beauty under the rust, at all.