mishaps. She looked very solemn for a
few minutes, and kept opening and shutting her mouth to see if it wasn't
stiff. Presently she said, in a serious tone and with a pensive air:

"Nelly, I'll give you my bead-ring: I shan't want it any more. And Cy
may have the little horse: he lost his tail; but I put on the lamb's
tail, and he is as good as ever. I wish to give away my things 'fore I
die; and, Nelly, won't you bring me the scissors?"

"What for?" said Nelly, sniffing more than ever.

"To cut off my hair for mamma. She'll want it, and I like to cut
things."

Nelly got the scissors; and Poppy cut away all she could reach, giving
directions about her property while she snipped.

"I wish papa to have my pictures and my piece of poetry I made. Give
baby my dolly and the quacking duck. Tell Billy, if he wants my
collection of bright buttons, he can have 'em; and give Hattie the
yellow plaster dog, with my love."

Here mamma came in with a poultice, and couldn't help laughing, though
tears stood in her eyes, as she saw Poppy's cropped head and heard her
last wishes.

"I don't think I shall lose my little girl yet, so we won't talk of it.
But Poppy must keep quiet, and let Nelly wait on her for a few days."

"Are fits bad, mamma? and does it hurt much to die?" asked Poppy
thoughtfully.

"If people are good while they live, it is not hard to die, dear," said
mamma, with a kiss; and Poppy hugged her, saying softly:

"Then I'll be very good; so I won't mind, if the jawlock does come."

And Poppy _was_ good,--oh, dreadfully good! for a week. Quite an angel
was Poppy; so meek and gentle, so generous and obedient, you really
wouldn't have known her. She loved everybody, forgave her playmates all
their sins against her, let Nelly take such of her precious treasures as
she liked, and pensively hoped baby would remember her when she was
gone. She hopped about with a crutch, and felt as if she was an object
of public interest; for all the old ladies sent to know how she was, the
children looked at her with respectful awe as one set apart and doomed
to fits, and Cy continually begged to know if her mouth was stiff.

Poppy didn't die, though she got all ready for it; and felt rather
disappointed when the foot healed, the jaws remained as active as ever,
and the fits didn't come. I think it did her good; for she never forgot
that week, and, though she was near dying several times after, she never
was so fit to go as she wa