e cupboard on a plate.

But, that very afternoon, she took it out again and set it on the table
on a glass cake-stand. She put some leaves around it to make it look
nice, and it noticed there were a great many other things on the table,
and they all looked fresh and bright.

"This is all in my honour," it said. "They know I am rich."

Then several people came in and took chairs around the table.

"They all come to sit and look at me," said the vain cake. "I wish the
learned grain could see me now."

There was a little high-chair on each side of the table, and at first
these were empty, but in a few minutes the door opened and in came the
two little boys. They had pretty, clean dresses on, and their "bangs" and
curls were bright with being brushed.

"Even they have been dressed up to do me honour," thought the cake.

[ILLUSTRATION: "THERE'S THE CAKE," HE SAID.]

But, the next minute, it began to feel quite nervous again, Vivian's
chair was near the glass stand, and when he had climbed up and seated
himself, he put one elbow on the table and rested his fat chin on his fat
hand, and fixing his eyes on the cake, sat and stared at it in such an
unnaturally quiet manner for some seconds, that any cake might well have
felt nervous.

"There's the cake," he said, at last, in such a deeply thoughtful voice
that the cake felt faint with anger.

Then a remarkable thing happened. Some one drew the stand toward them and
took the knife and cut out a large slice of the cake.

"Go away," said the cake, though no one heard it. "I am cake! I am rich!
I am not for boys! How dare you?"

Vivian stretched out his hand; he took the slice; he lifted it up, and
then the cake saw his red mouth open--yes, open wider than it could have
believed possible--wide enough to show two dreadful rows of little sharp
white things.

"Good gra--" it began.

But it never said "cious." Never at all. For in two minutes Vivian had
eaten it!!

And there was an end of its airs and graces.

BEHIND THE WHITE BRICK

It began with Aunt Hetty's being out of temper, which, it must be
confessed, was nothing new. At its best, Aunt Hetty's temper was none of
the most charming, and this morning it was at its worst. She had awakened
to the consciousness of having a hard day's work before her, and she had
awakened late, and so everything had gone wrong from the first. There was
a sharp ring in her voice when she came to Jem's bedroom door and ca