stn't spend time on long names. Oh, I've just thought!
I'll name her 'Amy.' That's short, isn't it? Could a body nickname it?
We don't like nicknames here. I'm the only one. I'm sometimes 'Nan' to
papa. When the baby last before this one came, mamma named her Abby
after Grandmother Abigail. Then she thought we couldn't ever stop to say
Ab-i-ga-il, so she shortened it to Abby. Next thing, listen. Abby was
crying one day and Rex heard her, and grandmother asked, 'What's that?'
'cause she's deaf and doesn't hear straight, and Rex said, 'Oh, that's
nothing but little Ab!' She was just three days old then, and mamma
thought if her name got cut in two so quick as that, she wouldn't have
any at all in a week or two longer. So she's just Ruth now; and when the
boys say 'Ruth-y,' papa makes them put a nickel in the box. Do you have
a nickel box on your bookcase?"

"No, indeed. Tell me about it. I've never heard of such a thing."

"Why, it's this way. Feel me your hand. I'll show you." And as if she
could see perfectly, Nanette guided Amy to the further side of the room,
where stood a pretty, polished box upon the bookshelf. The box had a
slit in its cover, and it jingled merrily in the blind child's hand.

"Hear! We must have been pretty bad this month. But that makes it all
the better for the little 'fresh airers,' doesn't it? Sometimes, when I
think about them, I just want to do things--_not nice things_--all the
time, so as to make more money for them. But of course it wouldn't be
honorable, and I wouldn't do it."

"Do you put the nickels in when you are 'naughty'?"

"Yes, for crossness and unpolite words and messing at table and--lots of
things. Once--" Nanette paused and turned her eyes toward Amy for a long
time. Then she again passed those delicate finger-tips over the other's
face, and decided:--

"Yes, I can trust you. Once one of us, I couldn't tell you which one,
but one of us told a wrong story, a falsehood, an untruth. One of the
dreadful things that made our dear Lord kill Ananias and Sapphira dead.
Wasn't that awful? Mamma and papa didn't know what to do. A nickel
didn't seem much pay for a lie, did it? So they made it a dollar. Yes,
ma'am, one whole dollar. That's twenty nickels. Oh, it was so unhappy
those days! I was gladder than ever that I was blind. I think I should
have died to see the bad face of the one that did it while it was bad.
But mamma says such a lesson is never, never forgotten. You see, we