e sky lamp-lighter
were slowly going his errands. Max felt as if he could stand there for
ever, watching. But there came the summons.

"Max, my boy. You must go to bed now."

"Yes, mamma," and the small figure crept out and held up its face for a
good-night kiss. Then "mamma," he began, hesitatingly.

"Well, Max," and mamma raised her eyes again for a moment from her book.
It was a very interesting book, and mamma had had her little boy with
her all day, and had done her best to make him happy. Perhaps she was a
little tired, and felt that she had earned some rest for herself.

"Mamma, is it God that puts them all there?" he asked. "All the little
stars?" and he pointed towards the window.

"Yes, dear. You know it is. It is God that does everything good and
pretty and kind--up there and down here too."

"Him makes the flowers in the garden," observed Max.

"Yes, dear, you know He does," answered mamma, her eyes turning back to
her book again. "Good-night, Maxie."

"Good-night, mamma. But mamma--"

"Well, dear," without looking up this time.

"I was just thinking, when Him's _done_ down here, you know, and wants
to go up there again, what a _very_ long ladder Him must need."

"Yes, of course," said mamma, quite lost in her story by now.

"I wonder," continued Max, "I wonder if Him ever leaves it in the garden
after Him's gone up--after Him has been doing the flowers, you know,
mamma."

"I daresay--yes, very likely. Now _do_ go, Max."

"Does you really think so, mamma?" and Max's eyes, which had begun to
look as if the dustman had been passing by, grew bright and eager again.
"I'll look and see if I can't find it then, some day," he said to
himself, as he climbed up-stairs. For Max felt sure that whatever mamma
said must be true. And wonderful dreams came to the little four-year-old
man that night--dreams compared with which, all that Jack found at the
top of his famous bean-stalk would have seemed nothing.

The next morning brought unlooked-for disappointment to the little
fellow, for it was rainy and stormy. No going out for Max--he must stay
quietly in the nursery. And he looked so very sad about it that mamma
was a little surprised: he was usually so cheerful and contented.

"You had plenty of running about yesterday, Maxie," she said. "We cannot
expect it always to be fine. To-morrow will be sunny again very likely,"
and at this Max brightened up again.

"Him will bring the ladder then, perhaps,"