bustle among the little folks at Brook Farm. Lewie was quite out of
danger, and Agnes was as happy and as busy as any of her little cousins.
The cutter was in constant demand; for when one was particularly
desirous to go over to the village on some secret expedition, that one
must go alone, or only with those who were in her secret. Many were the
mysterious brown-paper parcels which were smuggled into the house, and
hidden away under lock and key in various closets and drawers; and there
were sudden scramblings and hidings of half-finished articles, when
some member of the family who "was not to see" entered the room.

"Aunty," said Agnes one day, in a confidential tone, "I should like to
make a needle-book for mamma, like the one cousin Emily is making for
Effie. She says she will show me, and fix it for me, and I think I can
do it. Do you think mamma would like it?"

"Certainly, darling, I should think she would like it; I do not see how
any mamma could help being pleased with anything her little girl made
for her."

"But, aunty," said Agnes, as if speaking of a well-known and
acknowledged fact, "you know mamma doesn't love me much, and perhaps it
would trouble her."

The sad tone in which these words were said brought tears to the eyes of
Mrs. Wharton, but still she encouraged Agnes to go on with the
needle-book. It was not a very complicated affair, and Emily arranged
all the most difficult parts; but still it was a work of time, and one
requiring much patience and perseverance on the part of so young a
child as Agnes. However, it was at length completed on the day before
Christmas, and, when handed about for inspection, was much admired by