did not make her sleep. It was soothing, indeed, to lie there in the
twilight with her hand in her mother's, and feel that she was her
little girl entirely, no more to be her boy while life should last.
And pleasant visions of a Gothic school-house, where she should some
day be mistress of sweet, rosy-cheeked children, rose gracefully on
the ruins of her manly aspirations.

By and by the bell rang, and her mother brought a lamp, and a package
which Mollie sat up and opened. There, with a note pinned on the left
leg of her trousers and a box of Mollie's best-beloved candies clasped
on her jacket, lay Helena.

"I have never been to the ash-man's house, Mother Mollie," said the
note. "I have been visiting Mr. John's cuffs and collars in the
bureau-drawer. I want my girls' clothes on to-morrow. I claim it as my
right. We all have our rights. Put me in dresses and take me home to
the play-room. You have your rights too, and I wouldn't let any one
tell me that I hadn't a right to be a girl. It is my opinion that
if you had been meant for a boy you would have been made one. Come,
mother, cuddle me up, and let's go to sleep and have sweet dreams, and
a blithe waking to girlhood in the morning, when we will make up with
Mr. John; for he sends these chocolate-creams to let you know that he
is sorry."

"So we will, dear," said Mollie, tucking Helena's head under her chin.
"You were always wiser than your mother, child."