to open it, and offering to help her; but this Betty would not
allow, and she opened it, her lips trembling with excitement.

"Is it for my very own?" she whispered.

"Absolutely for your very own, Betty," I answered.

"Oh!" said Betty. "Hugh, it's all for my very, very own; Aunt
Woggles says so; but you may play with it when you are very good."

This in Hugh's eyes seemed so remote a contingency as to be
scarcely worth consideration.

When the cooking-stove stood revealed in all its glory, Betty was
silent for a moment; then she said in a voice choked with emotion,
"I shall cook dinners for you, all for your very own self --
nobody else."

My heart sank. "You will eat the things, won't you?" she asked,
"if I make proper things, just like real things?"

"Of course," I said. "Where's Sara?"

"She wouldn't have her face washed," said Betty, "so she's waiting
till she's good."

Poor Sara! A strict disciplinarian is Betty!

The regeneration of Sara was evidently a matter of moments only,
for the words were hardly out of Betty's mouth when Sara, in all