with a forlorn sigh, adding, "Think of it, Father, twenty-two, and not a
heart to hang on my chatelaine."

"Hands are supposed to mean hearts nowadays," said Louis, reassuringly; "I
am sure you have mittened one or two."

"Oh, yes," she answered, laughing evasively, "both of little Toddie
Flynn's. Mamma, don't you think I am too big a baby for you to hold long?"
She sprang up, and drawing a stool before her father's chair, exclaimed, --

"Now, Father, a grown-up Mother-Goose story for my birthday; make it short
and sweet and with a moral like you."

Mr. Levice patted her head and rumpled the loosely gathered hair.

"Once upon a time," he began, "a little boy went into his father's
warehouse and ate up all the sugar in the land. He did not die, but he was
so sweet that everybody wanted to bite him. That is short and sweet; and
what is the moral?"

"Selfishness brings misery," answered Ruth, promptly; "clever of both of
us, but what is the analogy? Louis, you look lonesome over there. I feel
as if I were masquerading; come nearer the footlights."

"And get scorched for my pains? Thanks; this is very comfortable.
Distance adds to illusion."

"You don't mean to admit you have any illusions, do you? Why, those
glasses of yours could see through a rhinoceros, I verily believe. Did you
ever see anything you did not consider a delusion and a snare?"