s there?" inquired little Mary, who was amusing
herself by walking around the room backwards.

"What sort of babies--live ones, or rag ones, or wax ones?" inquired
Oscar.

"No, none of them," replied Mary; "I mean crying babies, like Annie
Davenport's."

"O, you mean those little dolls that make a squeaking noise when you
squeeze them. No, I believe I did n't see any," said Oscar.

"No, Mr. Fletcher would n't keep such silly things as them," said
Jerry, who was very fond of teasing his sisters.

"No, they aint silly, either, are they cousin Oscar?" said Mary.

"No," replied Oscar, "seeing it's you, they aint silly."

Mary was continuing her backward walk around the room, and was just at
that moment passing before Jerry, when he suddenly put out his foot,
and stumbling over it, she fell heavily upon the floor, striking her
head against a corner of the sofa. A loud scream immediately followed
this mishap, and as the author of it hastened to raise up his sister,
he was himself a little frightened; but seeing no blood flowing from
her head, he concluded she was "more scared than hurt," and tried to
turn the affair into a joke, saying:

"There, sis, you're a little crying baby yourself, now. Come, stop
your noise; you 've blubbered enough about it. It didn't hurt you, did
it?"

"Come here, dear, what is the matter?" said Mrs. Preston, who had left
the room a moment before, and hurried back on hearing Mary scream.

"Jerry knocked me over," said Mary, sobbing bitterly, as her mother
lifted her up into her lap.

"Where did it hurt you, dear?--there? Well, let mother rub it, and it
will feel better soon. Jerry is a naughty boy to do so. Why need you
torment your little sister so?" Mrs. Preston added, turning to Jerry.

Mr. Preston, who had been sitting upon the door-step, smoking his pipe,
as was his custom in the evening, came in, on hearing the uproar; and
having ascertained what the trouble was, he boxed Jerry's ears pretty
severely, and sent him off to bed. Oscar soon followed him; but Jerry
was so mortified at the rough handling he had received, that he
scarcely spoke again that night.

CHAPTER XVI.

IN THE WOODS.

It was soon evident that the air of Brookdale agreed with Oscar. He
was fast gaining his strength, and the increased fulness and color of
his countenance betokened returning health. No part of this
improvement was to be attributed to the bottle of cough drops his
mother packed