sharply, "that thou dost nothing but stare at it?"

Janice laid the letter in her lap, saying, "'T will wait till I
finish this row." It was certainly a hard fate which forced her
to delay the opening of the first letter she had ever received.

"'T will nothing of the sort," said her mother, reaching out
for the paper. "Art minded to read it on the sly, miss?
There shall be no letters read by stealth. Give it me."

"Oh, mommy," begged the girl, desperately, "I'll show
it to you, but--oh--let me read it first, oh, please!"

"I think 't is best not," replied her mother. "Thy anxiety
has an ill look to it, Janice."

The girl handed the letter dutifully, and with an anxious
attention watched her mother break it open, all pleasure in
the novelty of the occurrence quite overtopped by dread of
what was to come.

"What nonsense is this?" was Mrs. Meredith's anything
but encouraging exclamation. Then she read out--

"'T is unworthy of you, and of your acceptance, but 't is the
fairest gift I could think of, and the best that I could do. If
you will but put it in the frame you have, it may seem more
befitting a token of the feelings that inspired it."

Janice, unable to restrain her curiosity, rose and peered over