want me round," said Ben, feeling no desire to be a
tramp again.

"_I_ do, so you needn't fret about that, my hearty," answered Thorny,
with a resounding slap on the shoulder which re-assured Ben more than
any promises.

"I'd like to see a live wedding, then we could play it with our dolls.
I've got a nice piece of mosquito netting for a veil, and Belinda's
white dress is clean. Do you s'pose Miss Celia will ask us to hers?"
said Betty to Bab, as the boys began to discuss St. Bernard dogs with
spirit.

"I wish I could, dears," answered a voice behind them, and there was
Miss Celia, looking so happy that the little girls wondered what the
letter could have said to give her such bright eyes and smiling lips. "I
shall not be gone long, or be a bit changed when I come back, to live
among you years I hope, for I am fond of the old place now, and mean it
shall be home," she added, caressing the yellow heads as if they were
dear to her.

"Oh, goody!" cried Bab, while Betty whispered with both arms round Miss
Celia:

"I don't think we _could_ bear to have anybody else come here to live."

"It is very pleasant to hear you say that, and I mean to make others
feel so, if I can. I have been trying a little this summer, but when I
come back I shall go to work in earnest to be a good minister's wife,
and you must help me."

"We will," promised both children, ready for anything except preaching
in the high pulpit.

Then Miss Celia turned to Ben, saying, in the respectful way that always
made him feel, at least, twenty-five:

"We shall be off to-morrow, and I leave you in charge. Go on just as if
we were here, and be sure nothing will be changed as far as you are
concerned when we come back."

Ben's face beamed at that; but the only way he could express his relief
was by making such a blaze in honor of the occasion that he nearly
roasted the company.

Next morning, the brother and sister slipped quietly away, and the
children hurried to school, eager to tell the great news that "Miss
Celia and Thorny had gone to be married, and were coming back to live
here forever and ever."

(_To be continued._)

[Illustration: SATURDAY AFTERNOON.]

LITTLE BEAR.

BY SAMUEL W. DUFFIELD.

[Illustration]

There lives with us an Indian--
A Paw-knee, I declare--
And he utters dreadful war-whoops,
And his name is Little Bear.

A braver foe in a battle,
When his hands are in your hair,
There