ke playing at a Papa rather than really having one, but she
enjoyed the play; and when they told her that Papa was soon coming home
to stay always, she was only half glad, and said: "Won't there be any
more letters then? I shan't like that." Poor little girlie: we, who know
how nice it is to have real Papas, can feel sorry for her; can't we?

But Lota did not pity herself in the least. Grandmamma's house was stiff
and gloomy, shaded by high trees and thick vines which jealously shut
out the sun whenever he tried to shine in at the window panes.
Grandmamma's servants were old too, like the house. Most of them had
gray hair. Nursey wore spectacles; the coachman indulged in rheumatism.
Grandmamma herself was old and feeble. She rarely laughed or seemed to
enjoy any thing, but sat in an easy chair all the year round, and read
solemn books bound in black leather, which made her cry. Jennings her
maid waited on her, fetched footstools and cushions, pushed the blinds
down as soon as the cheerful noon got round to that side of the house.
"Missus is uncommon poorly to-day," she announced every morning. "Miss,
you must be very quiet." Lota was quiet. She was the only young thing
in the sad old house, but the shadows of age and sorrow fell lightly
upon her, and in spite of them she was as happy a child as you will find
in a summer's day. The garden was her kingdom and her Paradise. It was a
wide, fragrant, shaded place, full of the shrubs and flowers of former
days. Huge pink and white oleanders, planted in tubs, stood on either
side the walks. Thick spikes of purple lavender edged the beds; the
summer-house was a tangle of honey-suckle, rosemary, and eglantine.
Roses of all colors abounded. They towered high above Lota's head as she
walked,--twined and clasped, shut her in with perfumed shadows, rained
showers of many-colored petals on the grass. An old-fashioned fairy
would have delighted to dwell in that garden, and perhaps one did dwell
there, else why should little lonely Lota have been always so very, very
happy left alone among the trees and flowers? Can any one tell me that?

Far up in the curved angle made by the rose-hedge was the little house
where she and her dollies lived. Jacob the gardener built this house, of
roots and willow-osiers curiously twisted. It was just big enough for
Lady Bird and her family. The walls were pasted over with gay prints cut
from the "Illustrated News" and other papers. There was a real wind