I wish we didn't have to live in a boarding-house said Dorothy Dorrance, flinging herself into an armchair, in her grandmother's room, one May afteron, about six o'clock. She made this remark almost every afteron, about six o'clock, whatever the month or the season, and as a rule, little attention was paid to it. But to-day her sister Lilian responded, in a sympathetic voice, I wish we didn't have to live in a boarding-house Whereupon Leicester, Lilian's twin brother, mimicking his sister's tones, dolefully repeated, I wish we didn't have to live in a boarding-house And then Fairy, the youngest Dorrance, and the last of the quartet, sighed forlornly, I wish we didn't have to live in a boarding-house There was ather occupant of the room. A gentle white-haired old lady, whose sweet face and dainty fragile figure had all the effects of an ivory miniature, or a painting on porcelain. My dears, she said, I'm sure I wish you didn't.