such a loud voice that the gate shakes all the bolts loose."

"I suppose you do like it," said The Story; "anybody would. I am a
very good story, and very fit to be told last, although I cannot
see why that is any reason for calling me the 'amen story.' That is
foolish, _I_ think! But at any rate, that is no reason for telling
me _every_ night. Let your mamma tell you Cock Robin, or Jack the
Giant-Killer. They are plenty good enough."

"I don't want them," said the little boy, beginning to cry; "I want
_you!_ I wont go to sleep all night if mamma don't tell you."

"_I_ don't care!" replied The Story; "you needn't cry for me. I've
made up my mind. You wont hear me to-night. That as as sure as your
name is Paul."

And it was just as The Story said. There was no use in the boy's
crying, for off went The Story, and it was _not_ told that night; but
it is my private opinion that the boy did go to sleep after all.




POLLY: A BEFORE-CHRISTMAS STORY.

BY HOPE LEDYARD.

[Illustration]

"Santa Claus!" exclaimed Ned, half mockingly.