eply.

Nearly every part of the world was represented in this little farm
parlour. Here were corals and shells from the South Sea Islands;
wonderfully carved ivory from India and China; a tiny nugget of gold
from California; Indian arrow-heads, beads, and baskets. In fact, had
she known it, Mrs. Shaw really possessed a good and valuable collection.
Alan was handling what appeared to be a square block made of
beautifully-polished wood, and he asked what it was.

"It's only a specimen block of various Australian woods," was the reply.

"But see, they're not glued together in any way. Perhaps it's a puzzle,
and they all come apart." And he turned it over and over with boyish
curiosity and interest.

"No, it's nothing but samples of woods. I've got a list of their names
somewhere." And Mrs. Shaw went to a box to search for the paper.

Meanwhile Alan pulled and thumped, and at last one of the pieces
composing the box moved. The rest was easily done; one piece after
another came away, and there, right in the middle of the block, was a
small velvet case.

"Look! look!" he cried excitedly. "Come and see, Mrs. Shaw."

They all crowded round while Mrs. Shaw opened the case. Inside it was a
beautifully-painted head of a little girl.

"Why, it's Blanche when she was small!" exclaimed Marjory.

Mrs. Shaw stood as if turned to stone for a minute. Then she covered her
face with her hands and wept aloud. The children stood silent,
frightened by this outburst of grief, and not knowing what to do or say.

At last Blanche took courage, and gently touching the weeping woman's
arm, she said,--

"Please, don't cry. What is the matter? We are so sorry."

"Oh, my dear! my dear! that is the picture of my own little girl who
died long ago. I took to you from the first because of the likeness.
I've never seen her father since she died. It all happened long ago,
before I came here. She was a delicate little thing, and one day, while
her father was at home, I went away for the day to see my sister. The
child had a little cold, and I said to her father that she had better
not go out. But she begged so hard to go that he couldn't refuse her,
and they went out. They went into a shop for her father to buy some
tobacco. The child began playing with a kitten. She was very fond of
animals, and while her father's back was turned, she ran out into the
street after the kitten. She was knocked down and run over by a van, and
she only lived a few