e to
breathe the fresh air she would find her work finished when she
returned.

"It was a happy day that we read the message in the Market Place," she
said to the sick child; "indeed we have been rewarded generously."

A SCRAP OF ETRUSCAN POTTERY.

Deep down in a buried Etruscan tomb there lay a little three-cornered
piece of pottery.

It had some letters on it and a beautiful man's head, and had belonged
to a King some three thousand years ago.

Its only companions were a family of moles; for everything else had
been taken out of the tomb so long ago that no one remembered anything
about it.

"What a dull life mine is," groaned the piece of pottery. "No
amusement, and no society! It's enough to make one smash oneself to
atoms!"

"Dull, but safe," replied the Mole, who never took the least notice of
the three-cornered Chip's insults. "And then, remember the dignity.
You have the whole tomb to yourself."

"Except for you," said the Chip ungraciously.

"Well, we must live somewhere," said the Mole, quite unmoved, "and I'm
sure we don't interfere. I always bring up my children to treat you
with the greatest respect, in spite of your being cr-r--br-r--. I
_should_ say, not quite so large as you used to be."

"If only you had belonged to a King," sighed the Chip, "I might have
had someone of my own class to talk to."

"I don't wish to belong to a King," said the Mole. "There's nothing I
should dislike more. I am for a Liberal Government, and no farming."

"What vulgarity!" cried the Chip.

"It's a blessing it's dark, and he can't see the children laughing,"
thought the Mole-mother, "or I don't know what would happen."

"Everything that belonged to a King should be treated with Royal
respect," continued the Chip.

"As to that, I really haven't time for it," replied the Mole; "what
with putting the children to bed, and getting them up again, and all
my work in the passages, I can't devote myself to Court life."

"If you like, you can represent the people," said the Chip. "_I_ don't
mind, only then I can't talk to you."

"You can read out Royal Decrees, and make laws," said the Mole; and to
herself she added, "It won't disturb me. I shan't take any notice of
them."

"Who's to be nobles?" said the Chip, crossly. "I'd rather not do the
thing at all, if it can't be done properly!"

"Well, I can't be people and nobles too, that's quite certain,"
remarked the Mole-mother, as she tidied up her house. "