as to what his son would say.

"The mug was his own, so I don't think it was stealing to take
it," said Master Sunshine slowly; "but of course it was not right
for him to take it away without letting his people know. There are
lots of things in our house that were given to me, and are mine to
use and have; but they are not mine to sell and give away like my
toys and tops. You never told me so, but I always knew there were
two ways of owning things."

"We have no flowers for mother yet," said Mr. Norton, dismissing
the subject as he rose from the rock on which they had been
resting. "I wonder what we can find for her to-day."

How well they knew where to look, and how many happy exclamations
came from Master Sunshine as they discovered a clump of ferns just
unfolding from the green balls in which Dame Nature had securely
packed them.

In a marshy spot, a host of white violets sent up their dainty
perfume; and close by the bed of a tiny brook, a scarlet trilium
showed its velvety petals. A sunny hillside was covered with deep
purple violets, while under the roadside there were trails of
winter-berry vines still green and fresh in spite of the snows
that had lain on them; and here and there were the satiny blossoms
of the glossy-leaved pigeon-berry.

A pair of keel-tailed blackbirds were building in a tall tree
overhead; and the sweet, clear notes of one of them delighted
Master Sunshine until he heard the mate answering back with a
harsh, scraping noise not unlike a dull saw making its way through
a log of knotted wood. A robin gave a mellow chirp; and the
Peabody bird was filling the air with its sweet, sad strain.

It was always very hard to leave the woods and fields at such
times. They were so full of life and brightness, and there always
seemed a special Sunday calm about.

But there were the home people to consider. Lucy would be awake
now from her afternoon nap, and would be longing for her romp with
her "fazzer man;" and mother would be so delighted with her
flowers, and Master Sunshine would be needed to help arrange them;
while Almira Jane was sure to be wondering what was keeping "the
folks" so late. The Sunday tea would be ready for them too--and a
specially good tea it always was. There would be slices of cold
meat spread on a platter of parsley; and the thinnest slices of
bread-and-butter on the best bread-plates, and frosted cake; and,
most likely, peach or strawberry preserves from the jam-cupboa