the house, where we can't do anything or stay anywhere. We mustn't
play in the parlor, we mustn't make a noise in the halls, we mustn't
run on the piazzas. I'd like to live in a world where there was
some place for boys."

"Poor child," said Miss Burton; "this rain is as bad for you as
the deluge to Noah's dove, it has left you no refuge for the sole
of your foot. Will you come with me? No one has said you must
not hear a jolly story."

"You won't tell me about any good little boys who died when they
were as big as I am?"

"I'll keep my word--it shall be a jolly story."

"May we hear it too?" asked the other children.

"Yes, all of you."

"Where shall we go?"

"We won't disturb any one in the far corner of the parlor by the
piano. If you know of any other little people, you can bring them
there, too," and they each darted off in search of especial cronies.

"May we not hear the story also?" asked Stanton.

"No, indeed, I may be able to interest children, but not philosophers."

"Then we will go and meditate," said Van Berg.