que; 'and
we shall not excuse you if you are so imprudent as to let out this
affair of the treasure we have found to anyone.'

"'Don't fear me, grandmother,' returned Meeta; 'nobody shall hear from
me--but we must watch little Margot.'

"That same evening, Martin Stolberg carried the purse and all the
contents down to the house of the good pastor. He gave as his reason
for so doing, that, being himself somewhat pressed for money, he did
not dare to trust himself with this treasure."

The Story in Emily's Book. Part II.

[Illustration: Going gaily down the hill]

Lucy had read first, and when she had finished the half of the story,
Mrs. Fairchild proposed that they should take what was in the basket,
before they went on to the second part.

Mr. Fairchild was called in, and Mrs. Fairchild served each person from
the store.

"I am quite sure," said Emily, "that Monique Stolberg never made nicer
cakes than these."

"Papa," said Lucy, "I cannot help thinking that your book is not half
so pretty as ours. You don't know what a pleasant story we have been
reading, and we have half of it left to read. Shall I tell it to you,
papa?" she added; and springing up, she placed herself close to him,
putting one arm round his neck, and in a few minutes she made him as
well acquainted with Monique, and Martin, and Ella, and Meeta, and
Jacques, and Margot, and Heister Kamp, and Father St. Goar, as she was
herself; "and now, papa," she said, "will any of the children, do you
think, betray the secret?"

"Yes," said Mr. Fairchild, smiling, "one of them will."

"And who will that be, papa?" said Emily.

"Not Jacques," replied Henry, though he was not asked; "I am sure it
will not be Jacques."

"Wherefore, Henry?" said Mr. Fairchild.

"Because he is a boy," replied Henry, "and boys never tell secrets."

"And are never imprudent!" answered Mr. Fairchild, smiling; "that is
something new to me; but in this case I do not think it will be Jacques
who will tell this secret."

"Not Ella, papa?" asked Lucy.

"I am sure it will not be Ella," added Lucy; "it must be between Meeta
and little Margot."

"Probably," said Mr. Fairchild; "and I have a notion which of the two
it will be; and I shall whisper my suspicions to Henry; as he, being a
boy, will be sure to keep my secret till the truth comes out of itself.
Of course he might be trusted with a thing much more important than
this."

Mr. Fairchild then whispered either t