ed at each other across the table.

"I dare say, my dear," said Aunt Maria, "you thought you were as quiet
as two little mice; but I assure you you kept everybody awake, except
grandpa and Susy."

"Why, Aunt 'Ria!"

"But we learned a lesson in poetry-making," said Aunt Louise, "which was
worth lying awake to hear. Don't you suppose, Maria, that even prosy
people, like you and me, might jingle poetry till in time it would
become as easy as knitting-work?"

Prudy blushed painfully.

"I thought," said Grace, "the sun must look very jolly in his red silk
night-cap, only I was sorry you forgot to tell what he had for
breakfast."

"Nothing but cold potatoes out of the cupboard," said Horace; "he keeps
bachelor's hall. It's just as well the old fellow can't meet his wife,
for she's made of green cheese, and he'd be likely to slice her up and
eat her."

A tear glittered on Prudy's eyelashes. Horace was the first to observe
it, and he hastened to change the subject by saying his johnny-cake was
so thin he could cut it with a pair of scissors. By that time Prudy's
tears had slyly dropped upon her napkin, and she would have recovered
her spirits if Aunt Louise had not remarked carelessly,--

"Seems to me our little poetess is rather melancholy this morning."

Prudy's heart was swollen so high with tears that there would have been
a flood in about a minute; but Horace exclaimed suddenly,--

"O, mother, may I tell a story? Once there were two old--two maiden
ladies in Nantucket, and they earned their living by going round the
island picking up the 'tag-locks' the sheep had left hanging to the
bushes and rocks. Now, you wouldn't believe, would you, mother, that
those two women could get rich by selling tag-locks?"

"I certainly should not," replied Mrs. Clifford, smiling fondly on her
young son; for she saw and approved of his kind little scheme for
diverting his cousin's attention.

"Well, mother, they lived to be more than sixty years old; and when they
made their wills, how much money do you suppose they had to leave? I
wish you'd try to guess."

"Dear me," said Mrs. Clifford, "I'm sure I can't imagine: I shall have
to give it up."

"So must I," said grandmamma; "I make such poor work at guessing: I
suppose they lived very frugally?"

"A thousand dollars?" suggested Grace.

"A million?" said Susy.

"A shilling?" chimed in Aunt Louise.

"_Not one cent!_" replied Horace.

"Well, well," said grandmother, "yo