all mean?' he asked, turning round to Father, who had followed
him out, and was looking equally puzzled.

There was an awkward silence. Nellie coloured, and in her nervousness,
down went all her pretty flowers on to the floor. But Jack came to the
rescue, and blurted out the whole story on the spot.

Father turned his head away as Jack explained; indeed, he was much
touched by the children's thoughtfulness; but Uncle Harry patted Nell's
head, and praised her for her pluck. He said that Father ought to be
proud of his four children, and I am sure Father was, though he said
they must never think of going into the streets to sell flowers again.

Of course, the earning an honest penny business came to an end, for
Uncle Harry had come back much better off than when he went out to
Australia, and he gave the children a shilling each to buy Father some
slippers, and something else for themselves besides.

Later on, he and Father became partners in a business of their own, and
Nellie never had to think of selling her flowers again, or Geoffrey of
sweeping a crossing.

J. A. VIVIAN.

[Illustration: "'No, little lass, I do not want any flowers.'"]

[Illustration: "'Look out, Father, they are going to shoot you!'"]

'GINGER FOR PLUCK.'

Thomas M'Calmont had blue eyes, a mop of red hair, a moderate share of
brains, and a most insatiable thirst for adventure. When his
school-fellows made insulting remarks about his red locks, he was wont
to answer, 'Ginger for pluck;' and, indeed, on several occasions, he had
acted up to this saying there and then on the persons of his unfortunate
persecutors.

Tommy was only eleven years old. Mrs. M'Calmont, his mother, regarded
him as the most wonderful boy in the world, and would have utterly
spoilt him, after the fashion of adoring mothers, had it not been that
Mr. M'Calmont, seeing nothing more wonderful in his son than a
red-headed, mischievous boy, set himself most diligently to curb Tom's
youthful energy, and make an honest, sensible fellow of him.

They lived in the country, and Tom had three miles to go to his school.
But Mr. M'Calmont also had business in Barton, so the pair set out
together each morning in a trap drawn by a steady-going horse, who never
shied or ran away, or did anything at all exciting. Tom was set down at
the door of his school at nine o'clock, and called for at half-past four
precisely, just like a grocery parcel. Never a chance for a frolic over
t