When the garments were fully displayed, all the aunts looked at me. I
had been to college; I had studied Burke's _Peerage_; I had been once to
New York. Perhaps I could immediately name the exact station in noble
British life to which that suit of clothes belonged. I could; I saw it
all at a glance. I grew flustered and pale. I dared not look my poor
deluded female relatives in the face.

"What rank in the peerage do these gold-laced garments and big buttons
betoken?" cried all three.

"_It is a suit of servant's livery!_" gasped I, and fell back with a
shudder.

That evening, after the sun had gone down, we buried those hateful
garments in a ditch at the bottom of the garden. Rest there perturbed
body-coat, yellow trousers, brown gaiters, and all!

"Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!"




WHY MOLES HAVE HANDS

BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON


One day the children came running to Aunt Nancy with a mole which one of
the dogs had just killed. They had never seen one before and were very