green satin, opening its eyes, if you plaze."

"Now, me!" roared Danny, squirming in his chair.

"'Daniel Mulcahey Watson, what wud you like?' she says,
and Danny ups and says, 'Chockaluts and candy men and
taffy and curren' buns and ginger bread,' and she had
every wan of them."

"'Robert Roblin Watson, him as they call Bugsey, what
would you like?' and 'Patrick Healy Watson, as is called
Patsey, what is your choice?' says she, and--"

In the confusion that ensued while these two young
gentlemen thus referred to stated their modest wishes,
their mother came in, tired and pale, from her hard day's
work.

"How is the pink lady to-day, ma?" asked Pearlie, setting
Danny down and beginning operations on Bugsey.

"Oh, she's as swate as ever, an' can talk that soft and
kind about children as to melt the heart in ye."

Danny crept up on his mother's knee "Ma, did she give ye
pie?" he asked, wistfully.

"Yes, me beauty, and she sent this to you wid her love,"
and Mrs. Watson took a small piece out of a newspaper
from under her cape. It was the piece that had been set