as riding in a stage coach,
along a country road, with her aunt. She had been making this aunt a
visit, and was now coming home to her kind mother. It was a pretty long
ride, over hill and dale; but Tillie, for that was the little girl's
name, was delighted at first, and laughed every time the stones in the
road made the stage give a jump, and a bump, and a rumble, and a
tumble.

"But pretty soon she began to get tired, and wanted to jump and tumble
herself. She could not run about in a stage coach--of course not--there
was no room; and Tillie's little feet began to kick, because they could
not get any play.

"At last her aunt said, 'Sit still, dear: look at the ducks, and pigs,
and geese all along the road; and see those patient oxen in the field,
how they turn one way when the farmer says "Gee," and the other when he
says "Haw."'

"Tillie looked for a moment, and then said, 'Oh, I _so_ tired.' Just
then she spied a large black and white blanket shawl lying on her aunt's
lap. She took it, and with great efforts managed to roll it up, and
fasten the roll with two large pins she found in it, which had shiny
black heads. Then she made believe that the shawl was a baby; and very
soon every one in the stage was laughing at her funny talk.

"'Oh, my dear baby,' she said, 'I 'fraid the light hurts your little
eyes; please, auntie, lend me your veil.'

"Her aunt smiled, and gave Tillie her brown barege veil; and the little
girl spread it tenderly over the top of the shawl, saying, 'There, my
baby, don't cry any more.'

"'Ai! ai! ai! a----i!' screamed the baby--that is, _Tillie_ screamed,
and pretended it was her--'ai! ai! a----i!'

"'What, darling, what is it?' said Tillie, 'do you want to look out of
the window and see the pretty trees? So you shall, dearest. There, don't
bump your little head!' And taking off the brown barege veil, she poked
the top of the shawl out of the window; and it had a real nice time
staring, and did not cry any more.

[Illustration: Tillie and her Aunt going up to the House.]

"Pretty soon the stage stopped at the gate leading to Tillie's home. As
her aunt helped the little girl out, the shawl slipped from her hands,
and down it fell on the grass.

"'Oh, my child! my child!' she exclaimed, 'you have broken your neck!
you have broken your neck! Oh, are you _all_ killed?' Then she began to
shriek softly, as if the baby was crying her eyes out, until she saw her
mother standing, smiling, a