rwards."

"Another! another!" she shrieked, jumping up and down with redoubled
energy, all her silvery curls flying.

I began about Noah and the flood.

"Did it rain so badly?" she asked with a face of the deepest concern and
interest.

"Yes, all day long and all night long for weeks and weeks----"

"And was everybody so wet?"

"Yes--"

"But why didn't they open their umbwellas?"

Just then I saw the nurse coming out with the tea-tray.

"I'll tell you the rest another time," I said, putting her off my knee,
greatly relieved; "you must all go to Anna now and have tea."

"I don't like Anna," remarked the June baby, not having hitherto opened
her lips; "she is a stupid girl."

The other two stood transfixed with horror at this statement, for,
besides being naturally extremely polite, and at all times anxious not
to hurt any one's feelings, they had been brought up to love and respect
their kind little nurse.

The April baby recovered her speech first, and lifting her finger,
pointed it at the criminal in just indignation. "Such a child will never
go into the Himmel," she said with great emphasis, and the air of one
who delivers judgment.

September 15th.--This is the month of quiet days, crimson creepers, and
blackberries; of mellow afternoons in the ripening garden; of tea under
the acacias instead of the too shady beeches; of wood-fires in the
library in the chilly evenings. The babies go out in the afternoon and
blackberry in the hedges; the three kittens, grown big and fat, sit
cleaning themselves on the sunny verandah steps; the Man of Wrath shoots
partridges across the distant stubble; and the summer seems as though it
would dream on for ever. It is hard to believe that in three months we
shall probably be snowed up and certainly be cold. There is a feeling
about this month that reminds me of March and the early days of April,
when spring is still hesitating on the threshold and the garden holds
its breath in expectation. There is the same mildness in the air, and
the sky and grass have the same look as then; but the leaves tell
a different tale, and the reddening creeper on the house is rapidly
approaching its last and loveliest glory.

My roses have behaved as well on the whole as was to be expected,
and the Viscountess Folkestones and Laurette Messimys have been most
beautiful, the latter being quite the loveliest things in the garden,
each flower an exquisite loose cluster of coral-pink petals