long?

"I wouldn't," she said, earnestly. Mamma looked up. "I never would cry
for the rain," hastily brushing the moisture from her own cheek. "Ladies
don't, nor good children; only cross ones."

"I am glad to hear it," said mamma; but she did not smile.

"It will be pleasant when it clears off, I guess; don't you?"

"It generally is," said mamma, quietly; and then she went on with her
work and paid no more attention to Flora. Now that was unusual conduct.
What did mamma mean? In thinking about it, Flora forgot her own
troubles, and forgot all about the rain, though at that moment it was
beating fiercely against the window, and the cold wind was begging to
come in. By and by she carried the footstool to her mother's side and
seated herself demurely.

"I am going to tell you a story," she said. "It is a story, but it is
the truth, too. Want to hear it?"

Mamma assented.

"Well. Once, a good while ago, almost as much as a week, somebody went
a-fishing. It wasn't Charley or Bertie or Amy or me. His mother told him
never to do it because he might tumble in, you know. But he did; he
went."

"What a naughty boy!" said mamma, gravely.

"But he wasn't a boy."

"Excuse me," said mamma, "I thought he was."

"And he wasn't a girl."

"No?"

"No. You could never guess what he was."

"Then you will have to tell me."

"He was a fly."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, he was a fly; a sure enough fly. And where do you think the pond
was? Not a truly pond, but play it was, you know."

"It might have been the sirup pitcher or the plum jar. Flies are very
fond of sweets."

"But it wasn't. It was the cream jug. He was trying to catch some milk
and he tumbled in."

"What a pity!"

"Yes, and his mamma wasn't there, and the milk drownded him. And I hope
he will remember it as long as he lives, and never do so any more.
Wasn't that a good story?"

"It was a very good story."

"Did it make you feel better?"

"A great deal better; and now I will tell you a story."

"Oh, goody!"

Flora brushed the curls back from her face and prepared to listen.

"Once upon a time," said mamma.

"Long ago?"

"Not so very long ago."

"Much as a week?"

"Oh, no; not so much as a week. We will say about two days."

"Well."

"Once upon a time--"

"About two days ago?"

"Yes, dear. In a little white palace no larger than this house, there
lived a king and a queen, a tall princess and a little princess."

"Oh oo!" said Flora.

"And