a little fling, and looking at
the stove, "I hope you're satisfied, you old thing; you've spoiled our
mamsie's birthday!" and without a bit of warning, she sat right down in
the middle of the floor and began to cry as hard as she could.

"Well, I never!" said a cheery voice, that made the children skip.

"It's Mrs. Beebe; oh, it's Mrs. Beebe!" cried Davie; "see, Polly."

Polly scrambled up to her feet, ashamed to be caught thus, and whisked
away the tears; the others explaining to their new visitor the sad
disappointment that had befallen them; and she was soon oh-ing, and
ah-ing enough to suit even their distressed little souls.

"You poor creeters, you!" she exclaimed at last, for about the fiftieth
time. "Here, Polly, here's some posies for you, and--"

"Oh, thank you!" cried Polly, with a radiant face, "why, Mrs. Beebe, we
can put them in here, can't we? the very thing!"

And she set the little knot of flowers in the hollow of the cake, and
there they stood and nodded away to the delighted children, like brave
little comforters, as they were.

"The very thing!" echoed Mrs. Beebe, tickled to death to see their
delight; "it looks beautiful, I declare! and now, I must run right
along, or pa'll be worrying;" and so the good woman trotted out to her
waiting husband, who was impatient to be off. Mr. Beebe kept a little
shoe shop in town; and always being of the impression if he left it for
ten minutes that crowds of customers would visit it. He was the most
restless of companions on any pleasure excursion.

"And Phronsie's got hurt," said Mrs. Beebe, telling him the news, as he
finished tucking her up, and started the old horse.

"Ho? you don't say so!" he cried; "whoa!"

"Dear me!" said Mrs. Beebe; "how you scat me, pal what's the matter?"

"What?--the little girl that bought the shoes?" asked her husband.

"Yes," replied his wife, "she's hurt her foot."

"Sho, now," said the old gentleman; "that's too bad," and he began to
feel in all his pockets industriously; "there, can you get out again,
and take her that?" and he laid a small piece of peppermint candy, thick
and white, in his wife's lap.

"Oh, yes," cried Mrs. Beebe, good-naturedly, beginning to clamber over
the wheel.

So the candy was handed in to Phronsie, who insisted that Polly should
hold her up to the window to thank Mr. Beebe. So amid nods, and shakings
of hands, the Beebes drove off, and quiet settled down over the little
brown house again