een told that there would be no pain or
crying in Heaven, and so she knew it must be a very happy place.

When her papa came home, Bella ran up to him with her letter,
exclaiming: "Oh papa, see! see the letter mamma _writed_ to me!"

"Is it possible! Why, what a big woman you are getting to be!" and he
took her upon his knee, and read the letter--out loud of course, for
Bella could have heard it fifty times with delight.

"Ah! that is a beautiful letter," said her papa; "you must answer it,
you know."

"Oh yes, papa; and I want to, 'ight away now."

"Oh! do you? Well, here is a sheet of paper, and pen and ink. Put out
your tongue; dear me, how long it is! it looks in very good talking
order. Now you talk, and I'll write, and see if we won't have a letter,
for which mamma will give two cents, and all her old shoes, to the
postman. Come! _you_ must begin first."

Then Bella put her little curly head one side, and stared up at a corner
of the ceiling. She was thinking, you see. Presently she put her finger
in her mouth, as if to pull the words out--then she looked at her
father. Her father smiled, which made her take her finger out of her
mouth, and shut her eyes--for she felt funny--and a little bashful. You
see this was a very grave business--writing a letter that her mamma
would have to pay two cents for--very serious business indeed.

All at once her eyes rested on her dolly, fast asleep in her pretty bed;
and then the words came right out--"Oh, dear mamma! I love my little
baby, and the heels, and the bedstead, and--and--oh, papa! I love mamma
the mostest. I gave my baby a piece of apple pie for her dinner. It was
made of paper, just for fun, you know; not really apple pie. She hates
pepper, it makes her tongue bite--mine too. She wants you to come home
s--o bad--the bedstead wants you to come home, and I want the postman to
bring me a letter, and you too--and--and--I don't know any more this
day."

"That is a beautiful letter," said her father; "now sign your name just
here--and I will seal it up, and direct it on the outside, and send it
to the post office."

So Bella made such a funny little scratch with the pen for her name,
that it looked as if a fly had turned round and round, with ink on its
legs, and then the letter went off on its travels.

The next day her cousin Stanny came to spend the day with Bella. Stanny
was a dear little fellow, with light hair, and great blue eyes, and
cheeks as fat as bu