ng."

"Ugly, unkind boy." Then they turned back to back, and stood sulking.
He put his hands into his pockets, and she sucked her finger.

"That's the worst of a girl," thought he; "I shan't give in."

"I can't bear boys," thought she; "and I won't make it up to-day."

"We might have had good fun all this afternoon if she hadn't been so
silly," he thought presently.

"It would have been so nice if he hadn't been disagreeable," she
thought after a bit. Then he began to fidget and to kick the floor a
little with one foot, and she began to cry and to wipe her tears away
very softly and quickly, so that he might not see them.

PEACE.

He looked over his shoulder quickly. She saw him, and turned still more
quickly away. "I shall go and take a long walk in the woods," he said.

"You don't know where the rabbit-holes are," she answered.

"Yes, I do; I found them out the other day."

"I shall go out with Mary."

"All right."

"And I shall never go into the woods with you any more."

"Very well. I don't care," he said. Then she broke down and sobbed.

"You are a very unkind boy."

"It's all your fault."

"No, it's all yours. You began."

"No, you began."

"You don't like me now," she sobbed.

"Yes, I do."

"You said I was a nasty, disagreeable thing."

"Well, I didn't mean it if I did. You said I was an ugly, unkind boy."

"Oh, but I didn't mean it," she said.

"You know I'm very fond of you."

"So am I of you."

"All right, then, let's make it up." So he turned round quickly and she
turned round slowly, and he put his arms round her waist, and she put
her hands up on to his shoulders, and they kissed each other, and
hugged each other, and rubbed noses, and laughed.

"Shall we go to the woods?" she asked, doubtfully.

"Yes, come along."

"You said you'd go without me," she pouted.

"Oh, but I shouldn't have liked it a bit."

"And I should have been so unhappy," she said.

"And now we just will have a game," he answered, as hand-in-hand they
went off as fast as they could scamper.

MY LITTLE BROTHER.

My baby brother's fat, as fat
As any boy can be,
And he is just the sweetest duck
That ever you did see.

I count the dimples in his hands
A dozen times a-day,
And often wonder when he coos
What he would like to say.

I comb the down upon his head--
He hasn't any hair,--
It must be cold without, and yet
He