"DON'T keep it from her," said I, "unless for some reason of your own. Let me tell the whole story, take all the responsibility, and accept the penalties, if there are any. Your mother is right in principle, if there IS a certain delightful exception that we know of."

"My only fear is for YOU," said my darling, nestling closer to me. "She comes of a family that can display most glorious indignation when there's a good excuse for it, and I can't bear to think of YOU being the cause of such an outbreak."

"I've faced the ugliest of guns in honor of one form of love, little girl," I replied, "and I could do even more for the sentiment for which YOU'RE to blame. And for my own sake, I'd rather endure anything than a sense of having deceived any one, especially the mother of such a daughter. Besides, you're her dearest treasure, and she has a right to know of even the least thing that in any way concerns you."

"And you're a noble fellow, and—" Whatever other sentiment my companion failed to put into words was impulsively and eloquently communicated by her dear eyes.

But oh, what a cowardly heart your dear cheek rested upon an instant later, fair Alice! Not for the first time in my life did I shrink and tremble at the realization of what duty imperatively required—not for the first time did I go through a harder battle than was ever fought with sword and cannon, and a battle with greater possibilities of danger than the field ever offered. I won it, as a man must do in such fights, if he deserves to live; but I could not help feeling considerably sobered on our homeward drive.

We neared the house, and I had an insane fancy that instead of driving two horses I was astride of one, with spurs at my heels and a saber at my side.

"Let me talk to her NOW, Alice, won't you? Delays are only cowardly."

A slight trembling at my side,—an instant of silence that seemed an hour, yet within which I could count but six footfalls, and Alice replied:—

"Yes; if the parlor happens to be empty, I'll ask her if she won't go in and see you a moment." Then there came a look full of tenderness, wonder, painful solicitude, and then two dear eyes filled with tears.

"We're nearly there, darling," said I, with a reassuring embrace.

"Yes, and you sha'n't be the only hero," said she, straightening herself proudly, and looking a fit model for a Cenobia.

As we passed from behind a clump of evergreens which hid the house from our view, I involuntarily exclaimed, "Gracious!" Upon the piazza stood Mrs. Mayton; at her side stood my two nephews, as dirty in face, in clothing, as I had ever seen them. I don't know but that for a moment I freely forgave them, for their presence might grant me the respite which a sense of duty would not allow me to take.

"Wezhe comed up to wide home wif you," exclaimed Toddie, as Mrs. Mayton greeted me with an odd mixture of courtesy, curiosity and humor. Alice led the way into the parlor whispered to her mother, and commenced to make a rapid exit, when Mrs. Mayton called her back, and motioned her to a chair. Alice and I exchanged sidelong glances.

"Alice says you wish to speak with me, Mr. Burton," said she. "I wonder whether the subject is one upon which I have this afternoon received a minute verbal account from the elder Master Lawrence."

"If you refer to an apparently unwarrantable intrusion upon your family circle, Mrs.—"

"I do, sir," replied the old lady. "Between the statements made by that child, and the hitherto unaccountable change in my daughter's looks during two or three days, I think I have got at the truth of the matter. If the offender were any one else, I should be inclined to be severe; but we mothers of only daughters are apt to have a pretty distinct idea of the merits of young men, and—"

The old lady dropped her head; I sprang to my feet, seized her hand, and reverently kissed it; then Mrs. Mayton, whose only son had died fifteen years before, raised her head and adopted me in the manner peculiar to mothers, while Alice burst into tears and kissed us both.

A few moments later, as three happy people were occupying conventional attitudes, and trying to compose faces which should bear the inspection of whoever might happen into the parlor, Mrs. Mayton observed:—

"My children, between us this matter is understood, but I must caution you against acting in such a way as to make the engagement public at once."

"Trust me for that," hastily exclaimed Alice.

"And me," said I.

"I have no doubt of the intentions and discretion of either of you," resumed Mrs. Mayton, "but you cannot possibly be too cautious." Here a loud laugh from the shrubbery under the windows drowned Mrs. Mayton's voice for a moment, but she continued: "Servants, children,"—here she smiled, and I dropped my head—"persons you may chance to meet—"

Again the laugh broke forth under the window.

"What CAN those girls be laughing at?" exclaimed Alice, moving toward the window, followed by her mother and me.

Seated in a semicircle on the grass were most of the ladies boarding at Mrs. Clarkson's, and in front of them stood Toddie, in that high state of excitement to which sympathetic applause always raises him.

"Say it again," said one of the ladies.

Toddie put on an expression of profound wisdom, made violent gestures with both hands and repeated the following, with frequent gesticulations:—

"Azh wadiant azh ze matchless wose Zat poeck-artuss fanshy; Azh fair azh whituss lily-blowzh; Azh moduss azh a panzhy; Azh pure azh dew zat hides wiffin Awwahwah's sun-tissed tsallish; Azh tender azh ze pwimwose fweet All zish, and moah, izh Alish."

I gasped for breath.

"Who taught you all that, Toddie?" asked one of the ladies.

"Nobody didn't taught me—I lyned [Footnote: learned] it."

"When did you learn it?"

"Lyned it zish mornin'. Ocken Hawwy said it over, an' over, an' over, djust yots of timezh, out in ze garden."

The ladies all exchanged glances—my lady readers will understand just how, and I assure gentlemen that I did not find their glances at all hard to read. Alice looked at me inquiringly, and she now tells me that I blushed sheepishly and guiltily. Poor Mrs. Mayton staggered to a chair, and exclaimed:—

"Too late! too late!"

Considering their recent achievements, Toddie and Budge were a very modest couple as I drove them home that evening. Budge even made some attempt at apologizing for their appearance, saying that they couldn't find Maggie, and COULDN'T wait any longer; but I assured him that no apology was necessary. I was in such excellent spirits that my feeling became contagious; and we sang songs, told stories, and played ridiculous games most of the evening, paying but little attention to the dinner that was set for us.

"Uncle Harry," said Budge, suddenly, "do you know we haven't ever sung,—'Drown old Pharaoh's Army Hallelujah,' since you've been here? Let's do it now." "All right, old fellow." I knew the song—such as there was of it—and its chorus, as EVERY one does who ever heard the Jubilee Singers render it; but I scarcely understood the meaning of the preparations which Budge made. He drew a large rocking-chair into the middle of the room, and exclaimed:—

"There, Uncle Harry—you sit down. Come along, Tod—you sit on that knee, and I'll sit on this. Lift up both hands, Tod, like I do. Now we're all ready, Uncle Harry."

I sang the first line,—

"When Israel was in bondage, they cried unto de Lord," without any assistance, but the boys came in powerfully on the refrain, beating time simultaneously with their four fists upon my chest. I cannot think it strange that I suddenly ceased singing, but the boys viewed my action from a different standpoint.

"What makes you stop, Uncle Harry?" asked Budge.

"Because you hurt me badly, my boy; you mustn't do that again."

"Why, I guess you ain't very strong; that's the way we do to papa, an' it don't hurt HIM."

Poor Tom! No wonder he grows flat—chested.

"Guesh you's a ky—baby," suggested Toddie.

This imputation I bore with meekness, but ventured to remark that it was bed-time. After allowing a few moments for the usual expressions of dissent, I staggered up—stairs with Toddie in my arms, and Budge on my back, both boys roaring in refrain of the negro hymn:—

"I'm a rolling through an Unfriendly World."

The offer of a stick of candy to whichever boy was first undressed, caused some lively disrobing, after which each boy received the prize. Budge bit a large piece, wedged it between his cheek and his teeth, closed his eyes, folded his hands on his breast, and prayed:—

"Dear Lord, bless papa an' mamma, an' Toddie an' me, an' that turtle Uncle Harry found: and bless that lovely lady Uncle Harry goes riding with an' make 'em take me too, an' bless that nice old lady with white hair, that cried, and said I was a smart boy. Amen."

Toddie sighed as he drew his stick of candy from his lips; then he shut his eyes and remarked:

"Dee Lord, blesh Toddie, an' make him good boy, an' blesh zem ladies zat told me to say it aden;" the particular "it" referred to being well understood by at least three adults of my acquaintances.

The course of Budge's interview with Mrs. Mayton was afterward related by that lady, as follows:—She was sitting in her own room (which was on the parlor-floor, and in the rear of the house), and was leisurely reading "Fated to be Free," when she accidentally dropped her glasses. Stooping to pick them up, she became aware that she was not alone. A small, very dirty, but good-featured boy stood before her, his hands behind his back, and an inquiring look in his eyes.

"Run away, little boy," said she. "Don't you know it isn't polite to enter rooms without knocking?"

"I'm lookin' for my uncle," said Budge, in most melodious accents, "an' the other ladies said you would know when he would come back."

"I'm afraid they were making fun of you—or me," said the old lady, a little severely. "I don't know anything about little boys' uncles. Now run away, and don't disturb me any more."

"Well," continued Budge, "they said your little girl went with him, and you'd know when SHE would come back."

"I haven't any little girl," said the old lady, her indignation, at a supposed joke, threatening to overcome her dignity. "Now, go away."

"She isn't a VERY little girl," said Budge, honestly anxious to conciliate; "that is, she's bigger'n I am, but they said you was her mother, an' so she's you're little girl, isn't she? I think she's lovely, too."

"Do you mean Miss Mayton?" asked the lady, thinking she had a possible clue to the cause of Budge's anxiety.

"Oh, yes—that's her name—I couldn't think of it," eagerly replied Budge. "An' ain't she AWFUL nice?—I KNOW she is!"

"Your judgment is quite correct, considering your age," said Mrs. Mayton, exhibiting more interest in Budge than she had heretofore done. "But what makes you think she is nice? You are rather younger than her male admirers usually are."

"Why, my Uncle Harry told me so," replied Budge, "an' HE knows EVERYthing."

Mrs. Mayton grew vigilant at once, and dropped her book.

"Who IS your Uncle Harry, little boy?"

"He's Uncle Harry; don't you know him? He can make nicer whistles than my papa can. An' he found a turtle—"

"Who is your papa?" interrupted the lady.

"Why, he's papa—I thought everybody knew who HE was."

"What is your name?" asked Mrs. Mayton.

"John Burton Lawrence," promptly answered Budge.

Mrs. Mayton wrinkled her brows for a moment, and finally asked:—

"Is Mr. Burton the uncle you are looking for?"

"I don't know any Mr. Burton," said Budge, a little dazed; "uncle is mamma's brother, an' he's been livin' at our house ever since mamma an' papa went off visitin', an' he goes ridin' in our carriage, an'—"

"Humph!" remarked the lady, with so much emphasis that Budge ceased talking. A moment later she said:—

"I didn't mean to interrupt you, little boy; go on."

"An' he rides with just the loveliest lady that ever was. HE thinks so, an' I KNOW she is. An' he 'spects her."

"What?" exclaimed the old lady.

"—'Spects her, I say—that's what HE says. I say 'spects means just what I call LOVE. Cos if it don't, what makes him give her hugs and kisses?"

Mrs. Mayton caught her breath, and did not reply for a moment. At last she said:—

"How do you know he—gives her hugs and kisses?"

"Cos I saw him, the day Toddie hurt his finger in the grass-cutter. An' he was so happy that be bought me a goat-carriage next morning—I'll show it to you if you come down to our stable, an' I'll show you the goat too. An' he bought—"

Just here Budge stopped, for Mrs. Mayton put her handkerchief to her eyes. Two or three moments later she felt a light touch on her knee, and, wiping her eyes, saw Budge looking sympathetically into her face.

"I'm awful sorry you feel bad," said he.

"Are you 'fraid to have your little girl ridin' so long?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Mrs. Mayton, with great decision.

"Well, you needn't be," said Budge, "for Uncle Harry's awful careful an' smart."

"He ought to be ashamed of himself!" exclaimed the lady.

"I guess he is, then," said Budge, "cos he's ev'rything he ought to be. He's awful careful. T'other day, when the goat ran away, an' Toddie an' me got in the carriage with them, he held on to her tight, so she couldn't fall out."

Mrs. Mayton brought her foot down with a violent stamp.

"I know you'd 'spect HIM, if you knew how nice he was," continued Budge. "He sings awful funny songs, an' tells splendid stories."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the angry mother.

"They ain't no nonsense at all," said Budge. "I don't think it's nice for to say that, when his stories are always about Joseph, an' Abraham, an' Moses, an' when Jesus was a little boy, an' the Hebrew children, an' lots of people that the Lord loved. An' he's awful 'fectionate, too."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Mrs. Mayton.

"When we says our prayers we prays for the nice lady what he 'spects, an' he likes us to do it," continued Budge.

"How do you know?" demanded Mrs. Mayton.

"Cos he always kisses us when we do it, an' that's what my papa does when he likes what we pray."

Mrs. Mayton's mind became absorbed in earnest thought, but Budge had not said all that was in his heart.

"An' when Toddie or me tumbles down an' hurts ourselves, 'tain't no matter what Uncle Harry's doin' he runs right out an' picks us up an' comforts us. He froed away a cigar the other day, he was in such a hurry when a wasp stung me, an' Toddie picked the cigar up and ate it, an' it made him AWFUL sick."

The last-named incident did not affect Mrs. Mayton deeply, perhaps on the score of inapplicability to the question before her. Budge went on:—

"An' wasn't he good to me today? Just cos I was forlorn, cos I hadn't nobody to play with, an' wanted to die an' go to heaven, he stopped shavin', so as to comfort me."

Mrs. Mayton had been thinking rapidly and seriously, and her heart had relented somewhat toward the principal offender.

"Suppose," said she, "that I don't let my little girl go riding with him any more?"

"Then," said Budge, "I know he'll be awful, awful unhappy, an' I'll be awful sorry for him, cos nice folks oughtn't to be made unhappy."

"Suppose, then, that I DO let her go," said Mrs. Mayton.

"Then I'll give you a whole stomachful of kisses for being so good to my uncle," said Budge. And assuming that the latter course would be the one adopted by Mrs. Mayton, Budge climbed into her lap and began at once to make payment.

"Bless your dear little heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Mayton; "you're of the same blood, and it IS good, if it IS rather hasty."

As I arose the next morning, I found a letter under my door. Disappointed that it was not addressed in Alice's writing, I was nevertheless glad to get a word from my sister, particularly as the letter ran as follows:—

"JULY 1, 1875.

"DEAR OLD BROTHER,—I've been recalling a fortnight's experience WE once had of courtship in a boarding-house, and I've determined to cut short our visit here, hurry home, and give you and Alice a chance or two to see each other in parlors where there won't be a likelihood of the dozen or two interruptions you must suffer each evening now. Tom agrees with me, like the obedient old darling that he is; so please have the carriage at Hillcrest station for us at 11:40 Friday morning. Invite Alice and her mother for me to dine with us Sunday,—we'll bring them home from church with us.

"Lovingly, your sister, HELEN.

"P. S. Of course you'll have my darlings in the carriage to receive me.

"P. P. S. WOULD it annoy you to move into the best guest-chamber?—I can't bear to sleep where I can't have THEM within reach."

Friday morning they intended to arrive,—blessings on their thoughtful hearts!—and THIS was Friday. I hurried into the boys' room, and shouted:—

"Toddie! Budge! who do you think is coming to see you this morning?"

"Who?" asked Budge.

"Organ-grinder?" queried Toddie.

"No, your papa and mamma."

Budge looked like an angel in an instant, but Toddie's eyes twitched a little, and he mournfully murmured:—

"I fought it wash an organ-grinder."

"O Uncle Harry!" said Budge, springing out of bed in a perfect delirium of delight, "I believe if my papa an' mamma had stayed away any longer, I believe I would DIE. I've been SO lonesome for 'em that I haven't known what to do—I've cried whole pillowsful about it, right here in the dark."

"Why, my poor old fellow," said I, picking him up and kissing him, "why didn't you come and tell Uncle Harry, and let him try to comfort you?"

"I COULDN'T," said Budge; "when I gets lonesome, it feels as if my mouth was all tied up, an' a great big stone was right in here." And Budge put his hand on his chest.

"If a big'tone wazh inshide of ME," said Toddie, "I'd take it out an' frow it at the shickens."

"Toddie," said I, "aren't you glad papa an' mamma are coming?"

"Yesh," said Toddie, "I fink it'll be awfoo nish. Mamma always bwings me candy fen she goes away anyfere."

"Toddie, you're a mercenary wretch."

"AIN'T a mernesary wetch; Izhe Toddie Yawncie."

Toddie made none the less haste in dressing than his brother, however. Candy was to him what some systems of theology are to their adherents—not a very lofty motive of action but sweet, and something he could fully understand; so the energy displayed in getting himself tangled up in his clothes was something wonderful.

"Stop, boys," said I, "you must have on clean clothes to-day. You don't want your father and mother to see you all dirty, do you?"

"Of course not," said Budge.

"Oh, Izh I goin' to be djessed up all nicey?" asked Toddie. "Goody! goody! goody!"

I always thought my sister Helen had an undue amount of vanity, and here it was reappearing in the second generation.

"An' I wantsh my shoes made all nigger," said Toddie.

"What?"

"Wantsh my shoesh made all nigger wif a bottle-bwush, too," said Toddie.

I looked appealingly at Budge, who answered:—

"He means he wants his shoes blacked, with the polish that's in a bottle, an' you rub it on with a brush."

"An' I wantsh a thath on," continued Toddie.

"Sash, he means," said Budge. "He's awful proud."

"An' Ize doin' to wear my takker-hat," said Toddie. "An' my wed djuvs."

"That's his tassel-hat an' his red gloves," continued the interpreter.

"Toddie, you can't wear gloves such hot days as these," said I.

A look of inquiry was speedily followed by Toddie's own unmistakable preparations for weeping; and as I did not want his eyes dimmed when his mother looked into them I hastily exclaimed:—

"Put them on, then—put on the mantle of rude Boreas, if you choose; but don't go to crying."

"Don't want no mantle-o'-wude-bawyusses," declared Toddie, following me phonetically, "wantsh my own pitty cozhesh, an' nobody eshesh."

"O Uncle Harry!" exclaimed Budge, "I want to bring mamma home in my goat-carriage!"

"The goat isn't strong enough, Budge, to draw mamma and you."

"Well, then, let me drive down to the depot just to SHOW papa an' mamma I've got a goat-carriage—I'm sure mamma would be very unhappy when she found out I had one, and she hadn't seen it first thing."

"Well, I guess you may follow me down, Budge, but you must drive very carefully."

"Oh, yes—I wouldn't get us hurt when mamma was coming, for ANYthing." "Now, boys," said I, "I want you to stay in the house and play this morning. If you go out of doors you'll get yourselves dirty."

"I guess the sun'll be disappointed if it don't have us to look at," suggested Budge.

"Never mind," said I, "the sun's old enough to have learned to be patient."

Breakfast over, the boys moved reluctantly away to the play-room, while I inspected the house and grounds pretty closely, to see that everything should at least fail to do my management discredit. A dollar given to Mike and another to Maggie were of material assistance in this work, so I felt free to adorn the parlors and Helen's chamber with flowers. As I went into the latter room I heard some one at the wash-stand, which was in the alcove, and on looking I saw Toddie drinking the last of the contents of a goblet which contained a dark-colored mixture.

"Ize takin' black medshin," said Toddie; "I likes black medshin awfoo muts."

"What do you make it of?" I asked, with some sympathy, and tracing parental influence again. When Helen and I were children we spent hours in soaking liquorice in water and administering it as medicine.

"Makesh it out of shoda mitsture," said Toddie.

This was another medicine of our childhood days, but one prepared according to physician's prescription, and not beneficial when taken ad libitum. As I took the vial—a two-ounce one—I asked:—

"How much did you take, Toddie?"

"Took whole bottoo full—twas nysh," said he.

Suddenly the label caught my eye—it read PAREGORIC. In a second I had snatched a shawl, wrapped Toddie in it, tucked him under my arm, and was on my way to the barn. In a moment more I was on one of the horses and galloping furiously to the village, with Toddie under one arm, his yellow curls streaming in the breeze. People came out and stared as they did at John Gilpin, while one old farmer whom I met turned his team about, whipped up furiously, and followed me, shouting "Stop thief!" I afterward learned that he took me to be one of the abductors of Charley Ross, with the lost child under my arm, and that visions of the $20,000 reward floated before his eyes. In front of an apothecary's I brought the horse suddenly upon his haunches, and dashed in, exclaiming:—

"Give this child a strong emetic—quick. He's swallowed poison!"

The apothecary hurried to his prescription-desk, while a motherly-looking Irish woman upon whom he had been waiting, exclaimed, "Holy Mither! I'll run an' fetch Father O'Kelley," and hurried out. Meanwhile Toddie, upon whom the medicine had not commenced to take effect, had seized the apothecary's cat by the tail, which operation resulted in a considerable vocal protest from that animal.

The experiences of the next few moments were more pronounced and revolutionary than pleasing to relate in detail. It is sufficient to say that Toddie's weight was materially diminished, and that his complexion was temporarily pallid. Father O'Kelley arrived at a brisk run, and was honestly glad to find that his services were not required, although I assured him that if Catholic baptism and a sprinkling of holy water would improve Toddie's character, I thought there was excuse for several applications. We rode quietly back to the house, and while I was asking Maggie to try to coax Toddie into taking a nap, I heard the patient remark to his brother:—

"Budgie, down to the village I was a whay-al. I didn't froe up Djonah, but I froed up a whole floor full of uvver fings." During the hour which passed before it was time to start for the depot, my sole attention was devoted to keeping the children from soiling their clothes; but my success was so little, that I lost my temper entirely. First they insisted upon playing on a part of the lawn which the sun had not yet reached. Then, while I had gone into the house for a match to light my cigar, Toddie had gone with his damp shoes into the middle of the road, where the dust was ankle deep. Then they got upon their hands and knees on the piazza and played bear. Each one wanted to pick a bouquet for his mother, and Toddie took the precaution to smell every flower he approached—an operation which caused him to get his nose covered with lily-pollen, so that he looked like a badly used prize-fighter. In one of their spasms of inaction, Budge asked:—

"What makes some of the men in church have no hair on the tops of their heads, Uncle Harry?"

"Because," said I, pausing long enough to shake Toddie for trying to get my watch out of my pocket, "because they have bad little boys to bother them all the time, so their hair drops out."

"I dess MY hairs is a-goin' to drop out pitty soon, then," remarked Toddie, with an injured air.

"Harness the horses, Mike," I shouted.

"An' the goat, too," added Budge.

Five minutes later I was seated in the carriage, or rather in Tom's two-seated open wagon. "Mike," I shouted, "I forgot to tell Maggie to have some lunch ready for the folks when they get here—run, tell her, quick, won't you?"

"Oye, oye, sur," said Mike, and off he went.

"Are you all ready, boys?" I asked.

"In a minute," said Budge; "soon as I fix this. Now," he continued, getting into his seat, and taking the reins and whip, "go ahead."

"Wait a moment, Budge—put down that whip, and don't touch the goat with it once on the way. I'm going to drive very slowly—there's plenty of time, and all you need to do is to hold your reins."

"All right," said Budge, "but I like to look like mans when I drive."

"You may do that when somebody can run beside you. Now!"

The horses started at a gentle trot, and the goat followed very closely. When within a minute of the depot, however, the train swept in. I had intended to be on the platform to meet Tom and Helen, but my watch was evidently slow. I gave the horses the whip, looked behind and saw the boys were close upon me, and I was so near the platform when I turned my head that nothing but the sharpest of turns saved me from a severe accident. The noble animals saw the danger as quickly as I did, however, and turned in marvelously small space; as they did so, I heard two hard thumps upon the wooden wall of the little depot, heard also two frightful howls, saw both my nephews considerably mixed up on the platform, while the driver of the Bloom-Park stage growled in my ear:—

"What in thunder did you let 'em hitch that goat to your axle-tree for?"

I looked, and saw the man spoke with just cause. How the goat's head and shoulders had maintained their normal connection during the last minute of my drive, I leave for naturalists to explain. I had no time to meditate on the matter just then, for the train had stopped. Fortunately the children had struck on their heads, and the Lawrence-Burton skull is a marvel of solidity. I set them upon their feet, brushed them off with my hands, promised them all the candy they could eat for a week, wiped their eyes, and hurried them to the other side of the depot. Budge rushed at Tom, exclaiming:—

"See my goat, papa!"

Helen opened her arms, and Toddie threw himself into them, sobbing:—

"Mam—MA! shing 'Toddie one-boy-day!'"

How uncomfortable a man CAN feel in the society of a dearly-loved sister and an incomparable brother-in-law I never imagined until that short drive. Helen was somewhat concerned about the children, but she found time to look at me with so much of sympathy, humor, affection, and condescension that I really felt relieved when we reached the house. I hastily retired to my own room, but before I had shut the door Helen was with me, and her arms were about my neck; before the dear old girl removed them we had grown far nearer to each other than we had ever been before.

And how gloriously the rest of the day passed off. We had a delightful little lunch, and Tom brought up a bottle of Roederer, and Helen didn't remonstrate when he insisted on its being drank from her finest glasses, and there were toasts drank to "Her" and "Her Mother," and to the Benedict that was to be. And then Helen proposed "the makers of the match—Budge and Toddie!" which was honored with bumpers. The gentlemen toasted did not respond, but they stared so curiously that I sprang from my chair and kissed them soundly, upon which Tom and Helen exchanged significant glances.

Then Helen walked down to Mrs. Clarkson's boarding-house, all for the purpose of showing a lady there with a skirt to make over just how she had seen a similar garment rearranged exquisitely. And Alice strolled down to the gate with her to say good-by; and they had so much to talk about that Helen walked Alice nearly to our house, and then insisted on her coming the rest of the way so she might be driven home. And then Mike was sent back with a note to say to Mrs. Mayton that her daughter had been prevailed upon to stay to evening dinner, but would be sent home under capable escort. And after dinner was over and the children put to bed, Tom groaned that he MUST attend a road-board meeting, and Helen begged us to excuse her just a minute while she ran into the doctor's to ask how poor Mrs. Brown had been doing, and she consumed three hours and twenty-five minutes in asking, bless her sympathetic soul!

The dreaded ending of my vacation did not cause me as many pangs as I had expected. Helen wanted to know one evening why, if her poor, dear Tom could go back and forth to the city to business every day, her lazy big brother couldn't go back and forth to Hillcrest daily, if she were to want him as a boarder for the remainder of the season. Although I had for years inveighed against the folly of cultivated people leaving the city to find residences, Helen's argument was unanswerable and I submitted. I did even more; I purchased a lovely bit of ground (though the deed stands in Tom's name for the present), and Tom has brought up several plans of cottage-houses, and every evening they are spread on the dining-room table, and there gather round them four people, among whom are a white-goods salesman, and a young lady with the brightest of eyes and cheeks full of roses and lilies. This latter-named personage has her own opinions of the merits of all plans suggested, and insisted that whatever plan IS adopted MUST have a lovely room to be set apart as the exclusive property of Helen's boys. Young as these gentlemen are I find frequent occasions to be frightfully jealous of them, but they are unmoved by either my frowns or persuasions—artifice alone is able to prevent their monopolizing the time of an adorable being of whose society I cannot possibly have too much. She insists that when the ceremony takes place in December, they shall officiate as groomsmen, and I have not the slightest doubt that she will carry her point. In fact, I confess to frequent affectionate advances toward them myself, and when I retire without first seeking their room and putting a grateful kiss upon their unconscious lips, my conscience upbraids me with base ingratitude. To think I might yet be a hopeless bachelor had it not been for them, is to overflow with thankfulness to the giver of HELEN'S BABIES.



THE END.