ildren is a good
deal for one woman to undertake, without counting in a little
step-daughter with a head stuffed with fairy stories. She washed and
ironed, mended and packed for Mell as kindly as possible, and did not
say one cross word, not even when her husband brought the coral necklace
from the big chest and gave it to Mell for her very own. "The child had
a right to her mother's necklace," he said. All was peaceful and serene,
and when Mell said good-by she surprised herself by feeling quite sorry
to go, and kissed Gabella Sarah's small face with tears in her eyes.

Grandmother was just such a dear old woman as one reads about in books.
Her cheeks were all criss-crossed with little wrinkles, which made her
look as if she were always smiling. Her forehead was smooth, her eyes
kind and blue. She was small, thin, and wiry. Her laugh was as fresh as
a young woman's. Mell loved her at once, and was sure that she should be
happy to live with her and be her little girl.

"Why, Bethuel, you've brought me a real good helper," said Grandmother,
as Mell ran to and fro, setting the tea-table, cutting bread, and
learning where things were kept. "I shall sit like a lady and do nothing
but rock in my cheer now that I've got Mell." Mell heard the kind words,
and sprang about more busily than ever. It was a new thing to be
praised.

Before Captain Davis went next day he walked over to Barnstable, and
came back with a parcel in his hand. The parcel was for Mell. It
contained the Fairy Tales,--all new and complete, bound in beautiful red
covers.

"You shall read them aloud to me in the evenings," said Grandmother.

That night, if anybody had peeped through the window of Grandmother's
little house he would have seen a pleasant sight. The kitchen was all
in order; the lamp burned clear; Grandmother sat in her rocking-chair
with a smile on her kind old face, while Mell, at her feet on a little
stool, opened the Fairy Tales, and prepared to read. "Once upon a time
there lived a beautiful Princess," she began;--then a sudden sense of
the delightfulness of all this overcame her. She dropped the book into
her lap, clasped her hands tight, and said, half to herself, half to
Grandmother, "_Isn't_ it nice?"

[Illustration]

MISTRESS MARY.

IT was the first of May; but May was in an April mood,--half cloudy,
half shiny,--and belied her name. Sprinkles of silvery rain dotted the
way-side dust; flashes of sun caught the drops as