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The Earl sank back into his chair. His deep-set fierce old eyes gleamed under his beetling brows. Come, now!" he said, still breathlessly. "Come, now! You don't mean the mother has n't told him?"

"Not one word, my lord," replied the lawyer coolly. "That I can assure you. The child is prepared to believe you the most amiable and affectionate of grandparents. Nothing-absolutely nothing hast been said to him to give him the slightest doubt of your perfection. And as I carried out your commands in every detail, while in New York, he certainly regards you as a wonder of generosity."

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(To be continued.)

THE GIRL WHO LOST HER POCKET.

BY SOPHIE SWETT.

EVERY one knew that Kitty Brimblecom was careless long before she lost her pocket. She lost not only little things such as thimbles and pencils and pocket-knives, but she lost her hat and one of her shoes, the soup-ladle and the pendulum of the clock, her wax doll's head and her brother Jack's tame owl; but all that was nothing compared with losing the baby! He was her own brother, and was only six months old when she lost him. Nurse had him out in the park, in his carriage, and was sitting on a bench gossiping with a crony, when Kitty seized the opportunity to run away, rolling the carriage before her. It went very easily, and she thought she could give the baby a ride just as well as Nurse; but unhappily, when she went into the crowded street a hand-organ with a monkey came along. Kitty was especially interested in monkeys; her brother Jack had said they would stuff their cheeks full of nuts, just like squirrels; she had some nuts in her pocket, and wished to see whether this monkey would make his cheeks stick out with them. And she left the baby in his carriage on the sidewalk, and forgot all about him!

And such a time as there was about it! Kitty's mother fainted, and Nurse had hysterics, and two policemen were employed to find the baby, and Jack said it was just like Kitty, and her father said she could not be trusted at all, and it was ten o'clock at night before they found him!

And that monkey just cracked the nuts and ate them like anybody else. And Jack said he had never said that monkeys would stuff their cheeks full like squirrels.

VOL. XIII.—17

Kitty resolved that nothing should ever tempt her to be careless again.

And she did improve very much after that. If she had not, her mother would never have allowed her to spend a whole month at Grandma's. Grandma lived in the country, on a farm, and there were good times to be had there, even in winter. The whole family went there to spend Christmas, and Grandma wanted Kitty to be left with her, for a long visit. She said Kitty's cheeks were pale, and she thought a little vacation would do her good, and she wanted her to keep the house bright and lively. And she did n't pay the least attention to Jack when he said that perhaps Kitty might make it too lively, and that she'd better keep him to find the things that Kitty would lose. Grandma did n't think Kitty so troublesome a girl as she was considered at home; she was a very kind grandmother, and found excuses for her grandchild. Perhaps you may have noticed that grandmothers are very often like that.

Kitty jumped for joy when her mother, after some hesitation, said she might stay. Some people might have thought it pleasanter in the city. in the winter, but Kitty preferred the country.

She liked to rise early, when there was n't a sign that it was morning, except the persistent crowing of the old red rooster, and go out to the barn with Absalom, the hired man, who went to feed the horses and cattle, and to milk the cows. Very often it was so early that stars were still shining in the sky, and it was so still that it seemed as if nobody were alive in the world. Kitty felt just as if she had risen early to go on a journey,

and there was something very fascinating about it. Kitty liked to feed the cows, which looked at her with friendly eyes, and the frisky little calf, Kitty's namesake and her especial property, always expected to have its head stroked. The old red rooster, that had been trying for the last hour to convince his lazy family that it was time to wake up, came strutting along to take his breakfast from her hands, followed by a flock of sleepy hens clucking their dissatisfaction at so early a rising, but not wanting in appetite. Even the lordly old gobbler, with a very infirm temper that allowed no familiarities, would bend his lofty neck to eat from the dish Kitty held in her hand.

The old gray mare always whinnied for a lump of sugar as soon as Kitty came in sight, and Kitty never failed to have it. It was fascinating, too, to see Absalom milk the cows, and while he was doing it he sang beautiful songs, that would almost bring ears to your eyes, about his "lovely Mary Jane" and "The Lass that Tore her Hair."

When they went back to the house Kitty usually curled up on the lounge in the sitting-room and had a nap until breakfast-time.

But going to the barn in the morning was only a small part of the fun that was to be had at Grandma's. Kitty was sure there were nowhere such hills for coasting as those about Cloverfield; and what were rinks for skating compared with the mill-pond? The snow staid on the ground longer than it did in the city, so there were plenty of sleigh rides; and there were singing-schools, and spelling-schools, and apple-bees, and all sorts of frolics to which Grandma always let her go, because they did not last until late, as such merrymakings did in the city.

At first the girls and boys were a little shy of Kitty, because she came from the city; but they soon became very friendly, and Kitty thought they were as agreeable friends as she had ever known, especially the little girls, who admired her clothes very much, and coaxed their mothers to bang their hair, because Kitty wore hers banged.

Mary Jane Lawton lived in the next house to Grandma's, and she was just Kitty's age; and Kitty liked her very much, though some of the girls told her in confidence that Mary Jane was haughty and proud.

Rosy and Roxy Dayton were Kitty's particular friends, and she could tell them apart, even without their necklaces on, although she had known them only a little while; and she was quite proud of her ability to distinguish them, for they were

twins, and looked so much alike that their own relatives could scarcely have told them apart, if one had not worn a red necklace and one a blue.

Martha Stebbins, the minister's little girl, was

also a friend of Kitty's, but she could not come out to play very often, because she had so many little brothers and sisters, and was always having to rock one of them to sleep.

But it happened one Saturday afternoon, when there was very fine coasting on Redtop Hill, that Kitty and all her friends could go. Martha Stebbins's little brothers and sisters were so considerate as to go to sleep without being rocked; Rosy and Roxy, who had to help in the Saturday baking, by peeling apples and seeding raisins and chopping meat, had finished their work; Mary Jane Lawton had recovered from her cold; and Grandma said Kitty could go and stay all the afternoon, if she would only go around by Mr. Spring the watch-maker's, on her way home, and ask him to fasten one of the glasses which had dropped out of Grandma's spectacles. It would take Mr. Spring only a very few minutes, and she could wait for them, and she was not on any account to forget, because Grandma could not see to read the hymns in church the next day without her "glasses."

The party set out in very high spirits, each with a fine, gayly painted sled. When they were about half-way to Redtop Hill, a girl came out of a house and stood in the road, evidently waiting for them to come up. She had very red hair and a freckled face, and her nose turned up. She wore a calico dress, an old red and green shawl, and a yellow pumpkin hood; and she had a very queerlooking sled, which was evidently of home manufacture. It was unpainted, and its runners had apparently been taken from a larger sled, and they extended beyond it in a very funny way.

"If there is n't Sally Pringle!" exclaimed Mary Jane Lawton. "I wonder if she thinks she is going with us! Old Mrs. Meacham took her out of the poor-house, and she does all sorts of work."

"I'm sorry for her; they say old Mrs. Meacham is so cross to her!" said Roxy Dayton.

"Oh, so cross!" said Rosy Dayton. "But she can't expect to 'sociate with us!" said Mary Jane Lawton, with a toss of her head.

"Goin' to Redtop Hill?" asked Sally Pringle, as soon as they reached her. "So 'm I! All my work's done up, and Mis' Meacham says I can stay all the afternoon. I guess I'll with you, 'cause I don't know many."

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"You have n't been invited," said Mary Jane, with another toss of her head; and she crossed the road away from Sally Pringle, beckoning and drawing the others, who, I am sorry to say, all

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Dave made for me 'll go better 'n any of yours; you speakin' to that Lawton girl; she would n't'a' so there!" said I could come if it had n't been for you. You "We would n't have such a funny-looking old 're not a bit stuck-up, if you do live in the city, sled!" said Martha Stebbins. are you? You 're as pretty as paint, and your "Oh, my! What red hair!" said Roxy Dayton. clothes are handsome, though it's a pity your Yes, and freckles!" said Rosy.

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"I'm not just alike, anyhow! Folks can tell me apart!" cried Sally Pringle, almost choking with wrath.

The twins were silenced by this cutting retort. Kitty said to Mary Jane, in a low tone : "She's all alone; it would n't do us any harm to let her come with us."

mother did n't have cloth enough to make your dress a little mite longer, and if you had a round comb 't would keep your hair out of your eyes. I think those girls are mean and proud, don't you?" "They did n't intend to hurt your feelings; they did n't think," said Kitty.

"I don't care if my hair is red, and if the boys do call house a-fire' after me! Dave is goin'

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to fight 'em. Don't you know Dave? His name is n't Meacham, no more 'n mine, but folks call him so; he's a boy that Mis' Meacham took, just as she took me. He was town's poor, too, but he's smart, Dave is. If you'll never tell as long as you live, I'll tell you a secret. Dave is going to be President, one of these days, and we 're going to live in the White House, and I'll ask you to come and see us, but I wont ask any of those girls would you?— 'cause they said I was town's poor and my hair was red. I don't care if my hair is red,- but I would n't be twins, anyhow, would you?"

"I think your hair is a pretty color; I saw some just like it in a beautiful picture, once," said Kitty, lifting admiringly the heavy, waving, red locks, that were really beautiful.

"Did you, now, honest?" said Sally, her eyes shining with delight. "I'll take you on my sled. The girls make fun of it now, but you'd better b'lieve they wont pretty soon! Dave made it, and it will go! you'll see! Dave don't think much of girls' sleds, anyhow, even if they are all painted up!

By this time they had reached Redtop Hill, which presented a very gay appearance, being thronged with boys and girls, some going up and some down, and all changing places like the bits of glass in a kaleidoscope.

Kitty and Sally were still walking together on one side of the road, while Kitty's friends walked on the other, but they came together when they reached the top of the hill, and the girls were all

a sled there that could beat it. A great cheering arose as Sally distanced all those who started with her, and she came up the hill radiant with delight.

"You shall take it just as many times as you want to, 'cause you 've been real good to me!" she said to Kitty.

But Kitty preferred to go down with her rather than to take the sled by herself, so she sat in front, and Sally sat behind and steered, and they went down like the wind, and Kitty said it was the best coast that she ever had in her life. She and Sally formed a queer contrast in looks, and they heard remarks made about it, and occasionally a laugh would be raised at Sally's looks, and once a small urchin called out "house a-fire!"

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sled and Kitty's friendship, Sally was quite the belle of the occasion, and no one there was happier. There was only one thing that was sad about that afternoon to Kitty and Sally: it would come to an end! The darkness seemed to come down sooner than it ever did before, and they had to go home.

Mary Jane, and Roxy and Rosy Dayton, and Sally went with Kitty to Mr. Spring the watch-maker's.

With one hand on the latch of Mr. Spring's door, Kitty put her other hand into her pocket to get Grandma's spectacles. O, dear, no! not into her pocket, but into the place where her pocket should have been!

The pocket was gone!

"Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? I've lost my pocket!" cried Kitty. "I remember now that it was half-ripped out when I put the dress on this morning, and I put two pins in it, and meant to sew it in before I came out, and then I forgot it, and, oh, dear! Grandma's spectacles were in it,

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And poor Kitty found it impossible to restrain her tears.

"It is of no use to go course," said Mary Jane.

back and look for it, of "It's too dark to find it, and probably somebody picked it up."

"No, it is n't of any use," said Kitty, looking regretfully back into the darkness, in the direction of Redtop Hill. "I shall never see it again! And Grandma can't read a word!"

Mary Jane, and Roxy and Rosy Dayton tried to comfort Kitty, as they walked homeward, but Sally Pringle said never a word. She ran on ahead of them, and went into her house without stopping to say good-night.

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