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is mossy stone Lies a poor child, who died, forsaken and alone. Her mother far in distant lands did roam, Leaving her daughter, Jean, to die at home. She pined away in sad and lonely grief, Not any pleasures brought to her relief, And when at last her family returned, With sorrow great, about her death they learned. So, pause, oh, stranger! drop a single tear, Pity the grief of her who liest here." This effusion was the greatest consolation to Cricket. She never showed it to anybody, not even to Eunice, but she often took it out, and read it with much satisfaction, and was almost inclined to begin pining away directly. But on the whole they were very contented, and it was much easier for them than if they had been left at Kayuna. Dinner-time--dinner was a one o'clock feast, in the summer--came when they had finished their letters, and had them ready for the mail. "We'll have the European letters to-night," said Eunice, joyfully, as they sat down to the table. "Does it seem as if we'd been here two weeks? Mamma won't seem so far away, when we get the first letters." "There was the cablegram," said Edna. "That doesn't count," said Eunice. "It wasn't mamma's own dear handwriting." "Papa writed it," chirped in Helen. "No, he didn't, goosie," said Cricket. "The man here wrote it. Papa only sent it." "I know!" exclaimed Zaidee. "Papa talked it into the box, and the man writed it down when he talked," confusing the telephone at home with the cablegram, which, directed to Miss Eunice Ward, as the eldest representative, had been the occasion of much excitement on its arrival. After dinner the three girls started down on the beach, to sit down under the rocks till it should be cool enough, later, to go for a ride with the ponies. "There comes the baby, all alone," said Cricket, presently, as that young man slipped out of the yard all by himself, and ran across the road and down towards the beach where the girls were. "Doesn't he look cunning? The darling!" Kenneth, although he was nearly four, was still The Baby to the family. His broad-brimmed hat hung down his back, held around his chin by its elastic, and his golden hair was rampant. His blue eyes were dancing with mischief, and his hands were clasped behind his back. "Dess what I dot?" he demanded, pausing at a safe distance, and looking up roguishly from under his long lashes. "What have you there, baby?
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