ittle bedstead, and the pretty doll
baby; who will go to sleep the moment you put her in bed. Don't cry any
more, my little kitten, and rosebud, and pearl, and dove. I will pray
to our Heavenly Father to take care of us both, and before long you will
be clasped tight in the arms of your loving _mother_."

The little girl's lip trembled, as Edith finished the letter; but she
lifted up the baby just then--and the blue eyes opened so suddenly, that
it set Bella laughing--and she said lovingly: "_Pessus keeter_, come to
mamma," and so the little mamma that couldn't say "precious creature"
plain, forgot to cry.

"Why! only see here!" exclaimed Edith, "here is another bundle under the
bedstead! It must have come from the moon;" and drawing it out, she
handed it to Bella.

"Oh! how 'lightful," cried Bella. "Two bundles! I shall jump out of the
window for joy."

And now the paper was eagerly taken off, and lo! and behold! there was a
most beautiful pair of little brown gaiter boots.

"With heels!" screamed Bella. "How grandy! like a big lady! look,
Edith--heels!"

"Did I ever!" said Edith, lifting up her hands, "you will tumble down
stairs the very first time you wear them."

"Boots with heels!" and Bella began to try them on. Something stiff
rattled inside--and she put in her hand and pulled out--another letter!
It was almost too good to be true.

But Edith soon read these kind words:

SECOND LETTER.

"_My little Darling_:

"Here are a pair of boots for your dear little feet, with the heels on
them, that you wanted so much.

"Be careful to go down stairs _very slowly_, for fear you might catch
your heels on the edge, and fall and hurt yourself.

"Don't let your little heel,
Bump your little head;
That would hurt a deal,
And make it very red.
Then so bad 'twould feel,
Like a lump of lead.
First with careful zeal,
Very gently tread;
Do not jump or squeal,
Precious little maid.
But, when at your meal,
Eating milk and bread,
Sing a merry peal,
Without any dread.
Dance a little reel,
Then skip up to bed."

"Oh, how nice," cried Bella, when Edith had finished. "I like that. It
is so jingly and jangly."

"Why! how you talk!" said Edith, laughing. "It's poetry."

"Is it?" said Bella. "O--h!"

She put both her