Rich and rare, with all the rays
From the August suns that blaze;
Quite _within_ its sweets you find,
And _without_ the rugged rind.

Charley gazed in blank despair,
Deeply vexed and shamed his air.
"Well," said Joey, "since you would
Choose the bad and leave the good;
Since you claimed the outer part,
And disdained the juicy heart,--
Yours the rind, and mine the rest;
But as you're my friend and guest,
Charley, man, cheer up and laugh,
And we'll share it half and half;
Looking out for number one
Doesn't always bring the fun."

[Illustration: {AT WORK IN THE STUDIO.}]

WOODCROFT.

Woodcroft to be sold!--like a knell of doom the words fell on our
ears--it could not be! Our dear old home, the only one we children had
ever known, to be taken from us. We sat in the bright little
sitting-room, blankly looking at one another, in dumb astonishment.
Louise, who was always the thoughtful one, soon roused herself from
the stupor which seemed to have come upon us all, and going over to
the lounge, began comforting--as best she could, poor child--our
gentle little mother, upon whom this blow had fallen most heavily.
Presently she sat up, and in trembling tones told us, as we clustered
at her knee, the particulars of our misfortune.

There were three of us--Louise, Cal and I, who rejoiced in the quaint
cognomen of Pen, named for a rich, eccentric, old aunt, who had never
left me any money because she never died.

"Now, Marmo, out with all the trouble and let us share it," said
matter-of-fact Cal. And then she told how, after papa's sudden death a
year before, she had discovered a mortgage to be on the place, small,
but now due and no money to meet it; the creditor was pressing, and
the home to be sold. We felt sad, but cheered her up, and talked over
ways and means as never before.

"Even though he consents to renew it, where would the yearly interest
money come from," she wailed.

We urged her to lie down and rest, and, following Cal's beckoning
finger, tip-toed out of the room.

"Now, girls," said she, "_something's_ got to be done, and _we've_ got
to do it."

[Illustration: "A TRIBUTE TO YOUR GENIUS, LOU," SAID I. "LIKE THE
FAMOUS ARTIST OF OLD, WHO PAINTED CHERRIES SO NATURALLY, THE BIRDS
FLEW DOWN AND PECKED AT THE CANVAS."]

One thing after another was proposed and rejected; we knew, if the
home were sold, after the demands were met, ther