ttle Indian boys."

All the efforts of the practical mother and daughter did not suffice to
keep within the limits they dreaded to overpass. Mrs. Liddell's pen
became more than ever essential to the maintenance of the household,
while the younger widow considered herself a martyr to the most sordid,
the most unnecessary stinginess.

A tapping at the door and suppressed childish laughter called Katherine
from her thoughts. She rose and opened the door quickly and softly.

"Hush, Cecil! be quiet, Charlie! poor grannie is asleep. Come with me
downstairs; I will read to you if you like."

"Oh yes, do," said Charlie.

"I don't care for reading," cried Cecil. "Can't you play bears?"

"It makes too much noise. I will play it to-morrow if grandmamma is
better. Shall I tell you a story?"

"No," said Cecil; "_I_ will tell _you_ one."

"Very well. I shall be delighted to hear it."

"I would rather have you read, auntie," said the little one.

"Never mind, Charlie; I will read to you after."

"Shall we sit in the garden? We have made it quite clean and tidy."

"No, dear; grannie would hear us there. Come into the dining-room."

Established there, the boys one on each side of her, Katherine listened
to the young story-teller, who began fluently: "There was once two
little boys called Jimmie and Frank. Frank was the biggest; he was very
strong and very courageous; and he learned his lessons very well when he
liked, but he did not always like. The two little boys had an aunt; she
was nice and pleasant sometimes, but more times she was cross and
disagreeable, and she spoiled Jimmie a great deal. One day they went out
to walk a long way, and saw lots of people riding, and Jimmmie grew
tired, and so did Frank, but Frank would not complain, and their aunt
was so unkind that she would not call a hansom; so when they came to a
great street Frank thought he would catch an omnibus, and he ran out
quick--quick. He would have caught it, but his aunt was so silly and
such a coward that she sent a man after him, who nearly dragged him
under the feet of a horse that was coming up, and they would both have
been killed if Frank had not called out to the cabman to stop."

"Oh, Cecil, that is you and I. _What_ a story! Auntie is not unkind, and
you did not call out," cried Charlie.

Katherine could not help laughing at the little monkey's version of the
incident.

"Cecil, Cecil, you must learn to tell the truth--" she was beginning,