a chockalut."

"Come Danny, that's a man," pleaded Pearlie, "and I'll
tell you all about the lovely pink lady when we go home,
and I'll get Bugsey's gum for ye and I'll--"

"No," Danny roared, "tell me how about the pink lady,
tell her, and her."

"Wait till we get home, Danny man." Pearlie's grief flowed
afresh. Disgrace had fallen on the Watsons, and Pearlie
knew it.

"It would be interesting to know what mental food this
little mind has been receiving. Please do tell him the
story, Pearlie."

Thus admonished, Pearlie, with flaming cheeks began the
story. She tried to make it less personal, but at every
change Danny screamed his disapproval, and held her to
the original version, and when it was done, he looked up
with his sweet little smile, and said to Mrs. Francis
nodding his head. "You're it! You're the lovely pink
lady." There was a strange flush on Mrs. Francis's face,
and a strange feeling stirring her heart, as she hurriedly
rose from her chair and clasped Danny in her arms.

"Danny! Danny!" she cried, "you shall see the yellow
birds, and the stairs, and the chocolates on the dresser,
and the pink lady will come to-morrow with the big parcel."