tories, nor look at
pictures." At this moment I stepped forward, for the spell of former
times was so powerfully on me, that I was on the very point of springing
forward with a "Halloo, there, Bill!" as I used to meet the father in
old times; but the look of surprise that greeted my appearance brought
me to myself.

"Is your father at home?" said I.

"Father and mother are both gone out; but I guess, sir, they will be
home in a few moments: won't you walk in?"

I accepted the invitation, and the little girl showed me into a small
and very prettily furnished parlor. There was a piano with music books
on one side of the room, some fine pictures hung about the walls, and a
little, neat centre table was plentifully strewn with books. Besides
this, the two recesses on each side of the fireplace contained each a
bookcase with a glass locked door.

The little girl offered me a chair, and then lingered a moment, as if
she felt some disposition to entertain me if she could only think of
something to say; and at last, looking up in my face, she said, in a
confidential tone, "Mother says she left Willie and me to keep house
this afternoon while she was gone, and we are putting up all the things
for Sunday, so as to get every thing done before she comes home. Willie
has gone to put away the playthings, and I'm going to put up the books."
So saying, she opened the doors of one of the bookcases, and began
busily carrying the books from the centre table to deposit them on the
shelves, in which employment she was soon assisted by Willie, who took
the matter in hand in a very masterly manner, showing his sister what
were and what were not "Sunday books" with the air of a person entirely
at home in the business. Robinson Crusoe and the many-volumed Peter
Parley were put by without hesitation; there was, however, a short
demurring over a North American Review, because Willie said he was sure
his father read something one Sunday out of one of them, while Susan
averred that he did not commonly read in it, and only read in it then
because the piece was something about the Bible; but as nothing could be
settled definitively on the point, the review was "laid on the table,"
like knotty questions in Congress. Then followed a long discussion over
an extract book, which, as usual, contained all sorts, both sacred,
serious, comic, and profane; and at last Willie, with much gravity,
decided to lock it up, on the principle that it was best to be