Betty Gordon had grown tall through the summer, and she was of a slender, wiry build that hinted of a fondness for outdoor life. Her heavy straight hair was wrapped around her well-shaped little head in braids, and her exquisite little hands and feet, so far her one claim to beauty, though later promises lay in her glowing face, gave her, as Louise afterward confided to her mother, "an air like an Indian princess."
"No, you don't look much alike," conceded Bobby, after a prolonged scrutiny. "But Betty Gordon looks the way I thought Betty Littell would look, so I don't see that I am to blame."
"Trust Bobby to excuse herself from a scrape," chuckled her father. "By the way, how are you going to arrange about names? Two Bettys in the family will involve complications."
"I think we'll have to call Betty Littell, 'Libbie,'" suggested Mrs. Littell, smiling. "That was your mother's name at home, always, Betty."
"Yes, I know it; and that's why they called me Betty," replied the Littell girl. "Two names, the same names, I mean, do make confusion. I'm willing to be called Libbie, Aunt Rachel, if you let me have a little time to get used to it. If I don't answer right away, you'll understand that I'm listening for 'Betty.'"
"Well, Mother, I think at least two of these girls need sleep," announced Mr. Littell. "Betty
