dream for it's true as can be."

"What did he mean, mother?"

"He meant that in spite of rain, little boys can be happy, just as the
birds are, and can carry smiling faces to show they have singing
hearts."

Francis laughed happily. "I'll try to have a singing heart. Oh, the
sun's out, and I'm going out to find the robin."

THREADING NEEDLES.

Mrs. Sargent's sunny sitting room was a very busy place that Wednesday
afternoon.

Four long sticks with their corners fastened together by wooden pegs,
and placed on the backs of chairs, made a large frame in the center of
the apartment. On this frame there were basted, first, some strips of
pale blue cheesecloth sewed together, then cotton wadding was arranged
evenly over this, and over all another large square of cheesecloth of
dainty pink, was placed.

Now, I dare say that all you little readers know what this meant. It was
a quilting-frame, of course, and the half-dozen ladies gathered around
it were busily engaged in tying a comfortable; and, more-over, that same
comfortable was to be sent to a good missionary out on our Western
frontier.

There was a big box of other things to be sent, too--but never mind
about them now; it is the pink and blue comfortable in which we are most
interested.

Little Ruth Sargent was also interested in it. She wished that she were
tall enough and nimble enough with her fingers to help fasten the pretty
little tufts of white Saxony yarn that tied the comfortable. The work
must be very pleasant to do, for the ladies seemed so happy.

How nice it was to think of making a sensible gift like that, to keep
the dear missionary lady warm during the long, cold winter nights in far
North Dakota!

Presently, a round, fluffy, white something tumbled off the
quilting-frame and rolled along on the carpet beneath.

"Oh, there goes my ball of Saxony!" exclaimed Mrs. Dalton. "I was trying
to thread my needle--my eyes aren't as good as they used to be--and the
yarn slipped out of my hand."

Now, Mrs. Sargent didn't have to tell her daughter to pick up the
worsted ball, for Ruth was a polite little thing, and the ball had
hardly ceased rolling, before she had scrambled under the quilting-frame
and picked it up. Then she thought of another polite thing to do.

"Please let me thread your needle, Mrs. Dalton," she said sweetly.

"Oh, thank you, deary, that will be such a help!" the lady replied.

"My! my!" laughed the other ladies. "Now