creature shrank deeper into her wrappings.

"I am very sorry, mother, I thought they would be a great treat for
you," said Edith, quite crestfallen. "Never mind; I got some flowers,
and they will be here soon."

"Thank you, dear, but the doctor says they are not healthy in a room--
Oh, dear--that child! what shall I do!"

The front door banged, there was a step on the stairs, but not so
light as Edith's had been, and a moment later the door burst open, and
"the child" rushed in like a mild whirlwind, exclaiming:

"Hurrah! hurrah! school to the shades. No more teachers and tyrants
for me," and down went an armful of books with a bang on the table.

"Oh, Zell!" cried Edith, "please be quiet; mother has a headache."

"There, there, your baby will kiss it all away," and the irrepressible
young creature threw her arms around the bundle that Mrs. Allen had
made herself into by her many wrappings, and before she ceased, the
red pouting lips left the faintest tinge of their own color on the
faded cheeks of the mother.

The lady endured the boisterous embrace with a martyr-like expression.
Zell was evidently a privileged character, the spoiled pet of the
household. But a new voice was now heard that was sharper than the
"pet" was accustomed to.

"Zell, you are a perfect bear. One would think you had learned your