understand," muttered the old man, but he asked no more, and
presently dropped asleep. Ellen watched him for a long time, then she
went across the hall to her old room, where Hester stood looking at a
little girl, who lay on the bed sleeping soundly, with the pink doll
hugged tight in her arms.

"She is just like yourself, Miss Ellen," said Hester, with joyful tears
in her eyes,--"just like your old self, with a thought more brown in the
hair. Ah! good times have begun again for my poor old master; the light
has come back to the house."

But neither Hester nor Ellen saw the white-robed angel, who bent over
the old man's bed with a face of immortal joy, and sang low songs of
peace to make sleep deep and healing. The dark spirit has fled away.

Meantime Dickie, unconscious messenger of Fate, scrambling easily over
the roofs, had gained his own room, and was comfortably tucked up in his
little bed. His dreams were of dolls, rocking-horses, black cats. So
soundly did he sleep, that, when morning came, Mally had to shake him
and call loudly in his ear before she could wake him up.

"Why, Dick!" she cried, "look at your night-gown. It's all over dust,
and there are one--two--three tears in the cotton. What _have_ you been
doing?"

But Dickie could not tell.

"I dweamed that I walked about on the woof," he said. "But I guess I
didn't weally, did I?"

[Illustration]

LITTLE BO PEEP.

THE sun was setting at the end of an August day. Everybody was glad to
see the last of him, for the whole world felt scorched and hot,--the
ground, the houses,--even the ponds looked warm as they stretched in
the steaming distance. On the edge of the horizon the sun winked with a
red eye, as much as to say, "Don't flatter yourselves, I shall be back
again soon;" then he slowly sank out of sight. It was comforting to have
him go, if only for a little while. "Perhaps," thought the people, "a
thunder-storm or something may come along before morning, and cool him
off."

Little Mell Davis was as glad as anybody when the sun disappeared. It
had been a hard day. Her step-mother had spent it in making soap.
Soap-making is ill-smelling, uncomfortable work at all times, and
especially in August. Mrs. Davis had been cross and fractious, had
scolded a great deal, and found many little jobs for Mell to do in
addition to her usual tasks of dish-washing, table-setting, and looking
after the children. Mell was tired of the heat; tired of the s