on the little girl's warm stockings and buttoned her shoes. "Now then, kittykins, slip into your warm dressing-gown and see how nicely you can brush your teeth, while mother—What is it, Carroll? Oh, a button off? Well, I'll sew it on. Give Buddy his picture-book.—Yes, pet; mother knows you're hungry; you shall have breakfast in just a minute. See the pretty pictures.—That's right, Carroll, my work-basket. Now stand still while I—Oh, Doris dear! Did you drop the glass?"

"It was all slippy, mother, an' I couldn't hold it. It's on the floor, mother, all in teeny, weeny pieces!"

"Don't step on them! Wait, I'll sweep up the pieces.—Yes, baby, mother hears you! See the pretty picture of the little pigs! Those nice little pigs aren't crying!—Wait, Carroll, till mother fastens the thread. There, that's done! Now put the basket—What is it, Doris?[Pg 23] Oh, poor little girl; you've cut your finger. Don't cry! But you see you should have minded mother and not touched the broken glass. Now we'll tie it up in this nice soft cloth, and——

[Pg 23]

"Yes, Celia; what is it? Oh, the butcher? Well, let me think—We had beefsteak last night. Tell him to bring chops—nice ones; not like the last.—Oh, I must run down and speak to that boy; he's so careless with the orders! Tell him to wait a minute, Celia.—Carroll, won't you show baby his pictures and keep him quiet till I—No, Doris; you mustn't touch that bottle; that is father's bay-rum. Put it down, quick!"

The meddlesome little fingers let go the bottle with a jerk. It fell to the floor, its fragrant contents pouring over the carpet. "Oh, you naughty child! What will mother do with you? All of daddy's nice—Yes, Celia; I hear you. I am coming directly. I must wipe up this—He says he can't wait? Well, tell him to bring two pounds of nice lamb chops—rib chops. If they are like the last ones he brought tell him I shall send them right back.

"Now, Doris, I want you to look at mother.[Pg 24] Why did you climb up in that chair and pull the cork out of the bottle, when I've told you never to meddle with the things on the chiffonière?"

[Pg 24]

"I should think that child would know better after a while," put in Carroll, with the solemn air of an octogenarian grandfather. "You ought to have remembered the salad oil last week, Doris, and the ink the week before!"

"Don't interrupt, Carroll; I'm talking to Doris 

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