intended Rachel for a lady, with her graceful form, her charming
manners, and her delicate hands.

"Will this do, ma'am?" she inquired. "Is it the sort of thing you
meant?"

"Ay, that will do, Rachel," replied Mrs. Verner. "John, here's a huswife
for you!"

"A what?" asked John Massingbird, arresting his stamping.

"A needle-book to hold your needles and thread. Rachel has made it
nicely. Sha'n't you want a thimble?"

"Goodness knows," replied John. "That's it, Fred! that's it! Give it a
turn."

Frederick Massingbird locked the box, and then left the room. His mother
followed him, telling John she had a large steel thimble somewhere, and
would try to find it for him. Rachel began filling the huswife with
needles, and John went on with his packing.

"Hollo!" he presently exclaimed. And Rachel looked up.

"What's the matter, sir?"

"I have pulled one of the strings off this green case. You must sew it
on again, Rachel."

He brought a piece of green baize to her and a broken string. It looked