The small lamp did not shed a very brilliant
light, but a mother does not need an electric glare in order to read
her child's face.

"Well, Obie, what's happened?" asked his mother as soon as he was
inside the door. "Have you caught a whole flock of quails?"

"Something better'n quails! Guess again, Ma!"

"Three nice fat prairie hens then."

"Something better'n prairie hens." And then Obie could wait no longer.
He pulled the package from under his coat and tossed it down beside
the poor old teapot, which had known little but hot water these many
weeks.

"Why, it's from Brother Obie--to _you_!" exclaimed his mother, while
his father drew near and said, "Well, well!"

"And look inside! I haven't half looked yet," said Obie, "but _you_
look, Ma! I just want you to look!"

Ma opened the box, and then the purse, and then the fourteen round
objects wrapped in white paper. And they made a fine glitter on the
red tablecloth.

"Well, _well_!" repeated Mr. Waddle.

"And here's something written," said Mrs. Waddle, taking a paper from
a pocket at the back of the purse.

"Read it, Ma--out loud! _I_ don't care," said Obie generously.

So Ma read it in a voice that trembled a little:

MY DEAR NEPHEW:--If I count rightly, it is thirteen years
since your good mother labelled you Obadiah. I'm not near
enough to give you thirteen slaps--I wish I were--so I send
you thirteen dollars, and one to grow on. Never mind
returning the dollar with the hole in it--keep it for your
grandchildren to cut their teeth on. Give my love to your
parents and little sister; and if you look the purse through
closely, I think you will find something of interest to your
mother. It is about time she paid our old Vermont a visit.
Be a good boy.

Your affectionate uncle,

OBADIAH BROWN.

"Oh, that blessed brother!" cried Mrs. Waddle, wiping her eyes with
her apron.

Obie seized the purse and examined it on all sides. It was a very
wizard of a purse, for another little flat pocket was found in its
inmost centre, and from it Obie drew out another bit of folded paper
and opened it.

"Why, it's a check!" shouted Mr. Waddle. "A check for you, Mary,
for--two--hundred--dollars! My! There's a brother for you!"

"Oh, not two _hundred_--it must be twenty--it can't be--" faltered
Mrs. Waddle, wiping her eyes to look at the paper.

Then she gave a little cry and fell to hugging all her family. "We c