hed Rebecca.

"What is your name, young lady?"

"Rebecca Rowena Randall, sir."

"What?" with an amused smile. "BOTH? Your mother was generous."

"She couldn't bear to give up either of the names she says."

"Do you want to hear my name?"

"I think I know already," answered Rebecca, with a bright glance. "I'm
sure you must be Mr. Aladdin in the Arabian Nights. Oh, please, can I
run down and tell Emma Jane? She must be so tired waiting, and she will
be so glad!"

At the man's nod of assent Rebecca sped down the lane, crying
irrepressibly as she neared the wagon, "Oh, Emma Jane! Emma Jane! we
are sold out!"

Mr. Aladdin followed smilingly to corroborate this astonishing,
unbelievable statement; lifted all their boxes from the back of the
wagon, and taking the circular, promised to write to the Excelsior
Company that night concerning the premium.

"If you could contrive to keep a secret,--you two little girls,--it
would be rather a nice surprise to have the lamp arrive at the
Simpsons' on Thanksgiving Day, wouldn't it?" he asked, as he tucked the
old lap robe cosily over their feet.

They gladly assented, and broke into a chorus of excited thanks during
which tears of joy stood in Rebecca's eyes.

"Oh, don't mention it!" laughed Mr. Aladdin, lifting his hat. "I was a
sort of commercial traveler myself once,--years ago,--and I like to see
the thing well done. Good-by Miss Rebecca Rowena! Just let me know
whenever you have anything to sell, for I'm certain beforehand I shall
want it."

"Good-by, Mr. Aladdin! I surely will!" cried Rebecca, tossing back her
dark braids delightedly and waving her hand.

"Oh, Rebecca!" said Emma Jane in an awe-struck whisper. "He raised his
hat to us, and we not thirteen! It'll be five years before we're
ladies."

"Never mind," answered Rebecca; "we are the BEGINNINGS of ladies, even
now."

"He tucked the lap robe round us, too," continued Emma Jane, in an
ecstasy of reminiscence. "Oh! isn't he perfectly elergant? And wasn't
it lovely of him to buy us out? And just think of having both the lamp
and the shade for one day's work! Aren't you glad you wore your pink
gingham now, even if mother did make you put on flannel underneath? You
do look so pretty in pink and red, Rebecca, and so homely in drab and
brown!"

"I know it," sighed Rebecca "I wish I was like you--pretty in all
colors!" And Rebecca looked longingly at Emma Jane's fat, rosy cheeks;
at her blue eyes, which said