ds into the kitchen, and, like other marauders,
were induced to keep aloof for a time only by being allowed to carry
away a sufficient load of booty.

"Tom," said Maggie, as they sat on the boughs of the elder-tree, eating
their jam-puffs, "shall you run away to-morrow?"

"No," said Tom, slowly, when he had finished his puff, and was eyeing
the third, which was to be divided between them,--"no, I sha'n't."

"Why, Tom? Because Lucy's coming?"

[Illustration: "IS IT THE TIPSY-CAKE, THEN?"]

"No," said Tom, opening his pocketknife and holding it over the puff,
with his head on one side in a dubitative manner. (It was a difficult
problem to divide that very irregular polygon into two equal parts.)
"What do _I_ care about Lucy? She's only a girl,--_she_ can't play at
bandy."

"Is it the tipsy-cake, then?" said Maggie, exerting her hypothetic
powers, while she leaned forward toward Tom with her eyes fixed on the
hovering knife. "No, you silly, that'll be good the day after. It's the
pudden. I know what's the pudden's to be,--apricot roll-up--O my
buttons!"

With this interjection, the knife descended on the puff, and it was in
two, but the result was not satisfactory to Tom, for he still eyed the
halves doubtfully. At last he said,--

"Shut your eyes, Maggie."

"What for?"

"You never mind what for. Shut 'em when I tell you."

Maggie obeyed.

"Now, which'll you have, Maggie,--right hand or left?

"I'll have that with the jam run out," said Maggie, keeping her eyes
shut to please Tom.

"Why, you don't like that, you silly. You may have it if it comes to you
fair, but I sha'n't give it you without. Right or left,--you choose,
now. Ha-a-a!" said Tom, in a tone of exasperation, as Maggie peeped.
"You keep your eyes shut, now, else you sha'n't have any."

Maggie's power of sacrifice did not extend so far; indeed, I fear she
cared less that Tom should enjoy the utmost possible amount of puff,
than that he should be pleased with her for giving him the best bit. So
she shut her eyes close, till Tom told her to "say which," and then she
said, "Left hand."

"You've got it," said Tom, in rather a bitter tone.

"What! the bit with the jam run out?"

"No; here, take it," said Tom, firmly, handing decidedly the best piece
to Maggie.

"Oh, please, Tom, have it; I don't mind--I like the other; please take
this."

"No, I sha'n't," said Tom, almost crossly, beginning on his own inferior
piece.

Maggie, thinking it