"Oh, I know; I'll give her my pretty box, that I got last Christmas; I know she'll like it. And Robbie can have my sled,—you know how he used to like it."

"Yes," sobbed Nimpo. Just then the pain came on again, and poor Rush writhed and twisted and groaned till it was over.

"You may have my books, Nimpo," he moaned, when he felt better again, "and, oh! I wish you'd give my bow and arrows to Johnny Stevens-he always wanted a bow; they're in the shed. -and-my knife—"

And

But his knife was too precious to part with, even on his death-bed, so he added:

"Well, I won't give away my knife yet." After that, his sufferings engrossed him until, at last, he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Then Nimpo, with a throbbing head, crept off softly to her own bed, where she lay tossing, in a high fever, until daylight.

Perhaps they would never have known what was the matter that night, but for the repugnance they both felt for the remaining fruit-cake. Nim

po took it out the next day, but Rush said it made him sick to look at it, and she couldn't touch a morsel herself. So she broke it into little bits and threw it out of the window; and I hope the birds knew enough to let it alone.

The next day Rush was not able to go to school, so he went down to the store and dozed on Cousin Will's bed, in the back room. For the present, however, he gave up all thought of dying, but spoke pathetically to Cousin Will of his narrow

escape.

That young gentleman suspected what was the matter, and made a good deal of fun of him, and had a good laugh at Nimpo's cake.

"I guess mother was right, after all," said Nimpo. "She never would let us eat much of that rich cake."

That morning, also, Nimpo's conscience began to trouble her about the dishes she had left. So, after school, she took Robbie down to the house, and proceeded to "put the kitchen to rights," as she called it.

It was so warm she thought she wouldn't make

a fire, as she could just as well wash the dishes in cold water; but she found this no easy thing to do. She worked away patiently, but every thing was so tightly stuck on, that it was the work of some hours to get them clean. The worst of it was she grew very warm and tired, and spoke crossly to Robbie when he came in to ask some little help from her. At last after sweeping up the floor, and putting away the things as well as she could, under the circumstances, she went out to where Robbie sat on the steps, very much ashamed of her crossness.

"I wish my mamty'd come home," said he softly to himself.

"So do I, Robbie;" said Nimpo pleasantly. "Shall we send her a letter to come home?"

"Do, send it in a mitit."

"Well I will, soon's I get back to Mrs. Primkins'."

"You're the bestest girl I ever saw," said the affectionate little fellow.

"You're a little darling," said Nimpo, giving him a good hug.

"Don't screeze me! I ain't a darling-I'm a boy," said Robbie, his spirits returning.

Then he sprang up, and danced around the steps.

"I'm a prancy horse! Don't ixturb me!"

But Nimpo seized him, and kissed him two or three times.

"I haven't any kisses for you," he said, trying to wipe them off his lips, "they're all for my mamty when she comes home."

"Well, then I'll give you some," said Nimpo. "Well," he said, holding up his lips innocently, to receive them.

CHAPTER XIV.

KEEPING HOUSE.

SINCE the day when Mrs. Primkins said that Mrs. Rievor was "clean tuckered out," Nimpo had taken care to write cheerful letters to her mother; but she was really very unhappy at her boardinghouse.

She had no more violent outbursts, for she had a little better control of her temper. But in spite of her efforts to endure it quietly, she was so homesick that she began to think any thing would be better than staying there; so she proposed to Rush that they should go home and keep house by themselves.

To be sure, she had not forgotten the unlucky cake business; but she knew of one or two plain things that she could cook, and then they could live on crackers and raisins, and such things, from