will seem to have a plenty of new, neat dresses
all at once, and be like other girls! Miss Bat always talks about
economy, and has no more taste than a--caterpillar." Molly meant to say
"cat," but remembering her pets, spared them the insult.

"I think I can afford to dress my girl as well as Grant does his. Get
a new hat and coat, child, and any little notions you fancy. Miss Bat's
economy isn't the sort I like;" and Mr. Bemis looked at his wristbands
again, as if he could sympathize with Molly's elbows.

"At this rate, I shall have more clothes than I know what to do with,
after being a rag-bag," thought the girl, in great glee, as she bravely
stitched away at the worst glove, while her father smoked silently for a
while, feeling that several little matters had escaped his eye which he
really ought to "see about."

Presently he went to his desk, but not to bury himself in business
papers, as usual, for, after rummaging in several drawers, he took out
a small bunch of keys, and sat looking at them with an expression only
seen on his face when he looked up at the portrait of a dark-eyed woman
hanging in his room. He was a very busy man, but he had a tender place
in his heart for his children; and when a look, a few words, a moment's
reflection, called his attention to the fact that his little girl was
growing up, he found both pride and pleasure in the thought that this
young daughter was trying to fill her mother's place, and be a comfort
to him, if he would let her.

"Molly, my dear, here is something for you," he said; and when she stood
beside him, added, as he put the keys into her hand, keeping both in his
own for a minute,--

"Those are the keys to your mother's things. I always meant you to have
them, when you were old enough to use or care for them. I think you'll
fancy this better than any other present, for you are a good child, and
very like her."

Something seemed to get into his throat there, and Molly put her arm
round his neck, saying, with a little choke in her own voice, "Thank
you, father, I'd rather have this than anything else in the world, and
I'll try to be more like her every day, for your sake."

He kissed her, then said, as he began to stir his papers about, "I
must write some letters. Run off to bed, child. Good-night, my dear,
good-night."

Seeing that he wanted to be alone, Molly slipped away, feeling that she
had received a very precious gift; for she remembered the dear, dead
mo