pectful way. "Charlie's three and I'm
four, and Pansy's nearly six, and Bob's seven past."

That was Ruth's description of the family, and I think it will do very
well, though some people might say it began at the wrong end.

And these were the little people who would have been badly off without
the weekly market, which they looked forward to as the "next best" treat
to having tea in the dining-room on Saturday evenings with mamma.

Their nursery windows overlooked the market place. The nurseries were
the brightest rooms in the house, and as it was a large house, whatever
its faults in other ways, there were three of them. The day nursery in
the middle and a large bedroom on one side, and on the other a small one
which was beginning to be called "Miss Pansy's room." And on Thursdays
Pansy's room was in great request, as from _its_ window one had the
best view of all of the market, especially of the corner where the
flowers were.

[Illustration: PANSY'S WINDOW WAS IN GREAT REQUEST]

There was always _something_ to be seen on the flower-stalls, even in
winter, when there was nothing else there were evergreens, holly and
mistletoe of course, in plenty, as Christmas came on. And though some
other parts of the market might be more amusing and exciting, where the
cocks and hens, and geese and ducks, were all to be heard gabbling, and
quacking and clucking and crowing, for instance; or the railed-in place
where there were generally a few calves or poor little frightened sheep
bleating and baa-ing, yet the little girl's first thought was always
the flower corner. First thing on Thursday morning, sometimes before it
was light, she would lie wondering what sort of dear little plants there
would be _this_ week, and hoping it would be a fine day, so that nurse
would let her poke her head out through the bars a tiny bit, so as to
see better, without calling to her that she would catch cold.

Pansy's birthday was in May--she was going to be six. She liked having a
birthday because mamma always invited herself to tea in the nursery, and
if it happened to be one of papa's not very busiest days, he would
sometimes join them too. That _was_ delightful.

Generally she got two or three simple presents, and always one very good
and valuable one from her godmother. But strange to say this handsome
present never pleased her half so much as the little trifling ones. Her
godmother was kind, but she was old and unused to children, and she