the number of stitches the little one really
put into her present, but she had a most genuine and firm conviction
that she worked every stitch of it herself; and when, on returning from
a scamper with pussy, she found one or two letters finished, she never
doubted that the whole was of her own execution, and, of course, thought
that working book marks was one of the most delightful occupations in
the world. It was all that her little heart could do to keep from papa
and mamma the wonderful secret. Every evening she would bustle about her
father with an air of such great mystery, and seek to pique his
curiosity by most skilful hints, such as,--

"I know somefing! but I s'ant tell you."

"Not tell me! O Ally! Why not?"

"O, it's about--a New 'Ear's pes----"

"Ally, Ally," resounds from several voices, "don't you tell."

"No, I s'ant--but you are going to have a New 'Ear's pesant, and so is
mamma, and you can't dess what it is."

"Can't I?"

"No, and I s'ant tell you."

"Now, Ally," said papa, pretending to look aggrieved.

"Well, it's going to be--somefin worked."

"Ally, be careful," said Emma.

"Yes, I'll be very tareful; it's somefin--_weall_ pretty--somefin to put
in a book. You'll find out about it by and by."

"I think I'm in a fair way to," said the father.

The conversation now digressed to other subjects, and the nurse came in
to take Ally to bed; who, as she kissed her father, in the fulness of
her heart, added a fresh burst of information. "Papa," said she, in an
earnest whisper, "that _fin_ is about so long"--measuring on her fat
little arm.

"A _fin_, Ally? Why, you are not going to give me a fish, are you?"

"I mean that _thing_," said Ally, speaking the word with great effort,
and getting quite red in the face.

"O, that _thing_; I beg pardon, my lady; that puts another face on the
communication," said the father, stroking her head fondly, as he bade
her good night.

"The child can talk plainer than she does," said the father, "but we are
all so delighted with her little Hottentot dialect, that I don't know
but she will keep it up till she is twenty."

* * * * *

It now wanted only three days of the New Year, when a sudden and deadly
shadow fell on the dwelling, late so busy and joyous--a shadow from the
grave; and it fell on the flower of the garden--the star--the singing
bird--the loved and loving Ally.

She was stricken down at once, in the flush o