defiant, shamed look in his eyes, stuffed the whole of the
sweets into his mouth at once, as if to preclude the possibility
of a sudden repentance.

The other note was equally unfortunate. Little Flossie went
home, her thoughts intent upon a certain Grannie bonnet Nell
had promised to make for her new doll.

"Gween with pink stwings," she was saying softly to herself as
she climbed the steps to her own door.

Alan was lying on the veranda lounge, smoking his black pipe.

"Gween what?" he laughed--"guinea-pigs or kangaroos?"

"Clawice Maud's bonnet," the little girl said, and entered forthwith
into a grave discussion with him as to the colour he thought more
suitable for that waxen lady's winter cloak.

Then she turned to go in.

"What's that sticking out of your wee pocket, Flossie girl?" he
said, as she brushed past him. She stopped a second and felt.

"Oh, nearly I didn't wemember, an' I pwomised I would--it's a
letter for you, Alan," she said, and gave Meg's poor little epistle
up into the very hands of the Philistine.