rshmallows and chocolates," exclaimed
Florence, as she untied the little pink string and peeped in.

"So are mine," said Dimple. "I don't think we had better eat them all
to-night, do you? Suppose we count them and take out some for to-morrow.
One, two, three, twelve chocolates, and sixteen marshmallows. How many
have you?"

"Thirteen chocolates and fifteen marshmallows," announced Florence.

"Well, let's eat six of them, and put the rest away."

So they were carefully counted out, and the packages retied.

"Now we will undress and sit here in our nightgowns, till we've eaten
our candy," said Florence.

"Dear me," said Dimple, as the last one disappeared, "I wish we had said
seven of them."

"Suppose we do say seven."

"Well, suppose we do," and the packages were again untied and again put
up. They had hardly finished when Mrs. Dallas came in with a telegram in
her hand.

"Not in bed yet?" said she.

"No, mamma, we have been eating candy. Did you see papa put it on the
bureau?" said Dimple.

"Yes, and I have a piece of news for you. Your Uncle Heath will be here
to-morrow."

"Uncle Heath! I am so glad. Is the telegram from him?"

"Yes, it just came, and he will be here to breakfast."

"How long will he stop?"

"Not very long. Now jump into bed and be ready to get up before he
reaches here."

"Is your Uncle Heath your papa's brother?" asked Florence, when they
were in bed.

"Yes. Oh! Florence, he is so nice."

"Is he young or old?"

"Not so very old, about forty, I think; he is two years older than
papa, but he looks older; he has grey hair, a little bit grey, not very,
and he looks like papa, only he has blue eyes.

"I wonder why he is coming," mused Dimple. "Now I think of it. I heard
papa say yesterday, 'I am so glad for dear old Heath.' I wonder why.
Don't grown folks know lots of things, Florence? And we have to just
guess and wonder till they choose to tell us.

"Never mind, I am going to sleep, and I shall ask him myself to-morrow.
Just think, Florence, he is in the cars now, and they are steaming
along, coming nearer and nearer, while we lie still here and sleep.
Good-night," and she turned over and was soon fast asleep.

CHAPTER XI

An Uncle and a Wedding

Dimple was up betimes the next morning. Creeping quietly out of bed, she
left Florence sound asleep.

"Mamma," she whispered, softly, as she opened her mamma's door, "what
time is it? Has Uncle Heath come?"

"It is