ed flame rushed
upward. What would have happened I dare not think, if just at that
moment a gentleman, who was hastening down the garden walk, had not
caught sight of the little figure, and, with a horrified exclamation,
seized, held it fast, wrapped round it a great woollen shawl from his
own shoulders, and in one moment put out the deadly fire which was
snatching at the sweet young life. Who was this gentleman, do you
think, thus arrived at the very nick of time? Why, no other than Lady
Bird's own Papa, come home from China a few weeks before any one
expected him!

I cannot pretend to describe all that followed on that bewildering day,
the dismay of Grandmamma and Nursey, the wrath of Jennings over the
match, the joy of everybody at Lady Bird's escape, or her own confusion
of mind at the fire and the excitement and the new Papa, who was and was
not the Papa of the letters. At first she hugged the rescued dolls and
said nothing. But Papa gave her time to get used to him, and she soon
did so. He was very kind and nice, and did not laugh at the children and
call them names as Isabel had done, but felt Stella's pulse, recommended
pomatum for the scorch on Imogene's forehead, and even produced a little
out of his own dressing-case. Best of all, he led Lady Bird upstairs,
unlocked a box and showed her a beautiful little Chinese lady in purple
silk and lovely striped muslin trowsers, which he had brought for her.

"Another child for you to take care of," said Papa.

Pocahontas Maria wrote in her Diary the next day:--

"My Grandpapa has come home from China. He is _very_ nice. He brought me
a little Chinese sister. Her name is Loo Choo, he says, but Mamma calls
her Loo Loo, because it sounds prettier. Grandpapa treats us very
kindly, and never says 'dolls,' as Isabel Berners did; and he went to
call on Lady Green with Mamma. I'm so glad he is come."

When Lady Bird read this she kissed Pocahontas and said,--

"That's right, dear; so am I!"

[Illustration]

ONE, TWO, BUCKLE MY SHOE.

THE old clock on the stairs was drowsy. Its ticks, now lower, now
louder, sounded like the breathings of one asleep. Now and then came a
distincter tick, which might pass for a little machine-made snore. As
striking-time drew near, it roused itself with a quiver and shake. "One,
two, three, four, five," it rang in noisy tones, as who should say,
"Behold, I am wide awake, and have never closed an eye all night." The
sounds sped f