intently at the foot thrust out straight before her, as she still sat in
the chair.

"What is it, Phronsie?" asked Polly, who was bustling around,
making preparations for the cake-making.

"Can I ever wear my new shoes again?" asked the child, gravely,
looking dismally at the black bundle before her.

"Oh, yes; my goodness, yes!" cried Polly; "as quick again as ever;
you'll be around again as smart as a cricket in a week --see if you
aren't!"

"Will it go on?" asked Phronsie, still looking incredulously at the
bundle, "and button up?"

"Yes, indeed!" cried Polly, again; "button into every one of the
little holes, Phronsie Pepper; just as elegant as ever!"

"Oh!" said Phronsie; and then she gave a sigh of relief, and thought
no more of it, because Polly had said that all would be right.

MAMSIE'S BIRTHDAY

"Run down and get the cinnamon, will you, Joey?" said Polly; "it's
in the 'Provision Room."

The "Provision Room" was a little shed that was tacked on to the
main house, and reached by a short ffight of rickety steps; so
called, because as Polly said, "'twas a good place to keep