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St. Elmo clapped his tiny hands and asked for “Moah,” while Norah Bliggins, who had been almost petrified when she heard the voice of Mrs. Wopp, sat hoping no one would ask her for the golden text. She was devoutly thankful that she could get up from her cramped position. A wide lath in the upturned box which served as her seat had broken and she had sunk deeper and deeper until her chubby chin and knees were in close proximity. It required the united efforts of Maria and Betty to extricate the unfortunate child. The doll was safe, however, and with fortitude worthy of emulation still smiled although sawdust again trickled from her re-opened wound. Henry started up a lusty crowing and Moses began to whistle while Betty uncovered the windows and made other preparations for leaving the loft. Several of her pictures had been spoiled by the rain and the box reduced to a soft pulpy mass. But May Nell was not to be comforted, till that evening when she composed a wonderful ode to “The Wreck of the Fair Ellen.” “Grand chain,” bawled Geordie evidently feeling his importance, “dos-et-dos, ladies’ chain, swing on the corners, and put some feelin’ in your step..

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“That’s bul—dandy.” “Well, papa did. If he was alive he’d be giving it to me about now, good and plenty.” The child obeyed, but her fingers trembled; and Bouncer whined and licked her hand. “I b’lieve I’ll go an’ git the warterin’ can,” announced Betty. “These pansies is orful dry, an’ even ef the sun is shinin’ on them, some warter round the roots wont hurt. You stay here, St. Elmo, an’ I’ll be back in a minute.”.