s nose very hard.

"Look here," said the Uncle to the Button Boy that evening, "I had a
purpose in putting you in this livery. You may guess, if you like, what
it was and I think it hasn't been a failure. Now, if you will go home
with me for the rest of the year we will hold to the contract and
suspend the buttons."

"Really," said the Mother, with her mild smile, "already, Brother, I
don't recognize my Boy; and I should like to ask you--"

"I am very much afraid," interrupted the Father, busily, "you will let
his mind vegetate; he is certainly not as thoroughly intellectual as
before he wore those buttons. I should like to ask you--"

"My dear Uncle," broke in the Sharp-eyed Sister, "if you will please
invent some kind of head-gear for the brains as good as this for the
heart, I--"

"Yes," said the Elder Brother hastily, "I should like to ask you--"

But the Uncle was seized with such a severe sneezing fit that no one
could ask him after all.

DAN HARDY'S CRIPPY.

Among the flock of geese that toddled in and out of Farmer Hardy's
barnyard last winter, hissing in protest at the ice which covered the
pond so that there was no chance of a swimming match, was one remarkable
neither for its beauty, nor its grace. This particular goose was gray,
and was looked upon with no especial favor by Mrs. Hardy, who had great
pride in all the flock but the gray one.

When it was a little, fluffy, drab-colored gosling, one of the sheep had
stepped on it, crushing out its life so nearly that Mrs. Hardy had no
idea it would ever recover, but Dan begged for its life. He felt sure he
could set the broken leg, and he pleaded so hard that his mother finally
allowed him to make the attempt.

And he did succeed. The gosling was naturally a strong little thing,
and, thanks to Dan's nursing, was soon able to limp around the shed that
had been converted into an hospital. One of its legs was nearly a
quarter of an inch shorter than the other; but the little fellow
increased in strength as rapidly as he did in size, and seemed to
consider Dan as his owner and especial protector.

Like Mary's lamb, it followed Dan about whenever the opportunity
offered, until "Crippy"--which was the name Dan had given it--was known
in the village quite as well as the boy was.

Many were the long walks, confidential chats, when the boy talked and
the goose cackled, that Dan and Crippy had, and when the preparations
for the Thanksgiving festival