“Crinkle, crinkle, ’ittle ’tar,”

“Crinkle, crinkle, ’ittle ’tar,”

and it had become a household custom, for the mother was a born singer. The first sound in the morning was her voice, as she went about the house singing like a lark; and the last sound at night was the same cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old for that familiar lullaby.