with his penknife.

Dotty hesitated; her nerves quivered at sight of the sharp blade.

"But that cruel little _chegre_ is drinking your blood, my daughter. The
more he drinks, the larger he will grow, and the harder it will be to
cut him out."

"That's so," said Horace. "I could preach, with jigger for a text. Ahem!
He is like sin--the more you let him stay, the more you'll wish you
hadn't. Come, Dotty, be brave, and out with him!"

"You can talk to _me_," said Dotty, bitterly; "but if it was _your_ side
that had a _jiggle_ in, perhaps you'd feel as bad's I do."

Horace was prepared for this.

"But I've had them cut out twice, miss. Being a boy, I could bear it!"

This settled the question.

"Girls are just as brave as boys," said Dotty; and submitted to the
knife without a murmur.

The next day she was regarded as something of an invalid. She had lost
so much sleep that she did not rise until her father was far away on his
journey. Aunt Maria gave her a late breakfast, which was also to serve
for an early dinner. It was an oyster-stew; and Dotty enjoyed eating it
in Mrs. Clifford's room on the lounge. Katie sat beside her, watching
every mouthful, and begging for it the moment it entered the spoon.

"Don't tease so," said Dotty; "your poor cousin is sick; you don't want
to take away her soup?"

"Yes, I does," replied Katie, coolly; "I likes it myself," opening her
mouth for more.

Dotty gave her an oyster. The next moment something grated against
Katie's teeth, and she picked out the hard substance with her fingers.
Mrs. Clifford happened to see it.

"That is a pearl," said she.

"A pearl, auntie? Why, isn't that something precious? Mamma has pearls
in a ring."

"I will show it to your uncle," replied Mrs. Clifford, turning it over
in her hand; "but I think it is a true pearl, only a little discolored
by the heat it has undergone in being cooked."

"O, I'll have a ring made of it! What funny oysters you do have out
West!"

"The pyurl is mine," said Katie; "I finded it in my toof."

"No, it's mine, darling, for 'twas in my stew."

"Well, tenny rate, I want um," said Katie, dancing around the sofa,
"_if_ you pees um."

"O, no; little bits of girlies don't need it--do they, auntie?"

"I hope," said Mrs. Clifford, smiling, "it will not cost either of you
any of those 'falling pearls which men call tears.' It isn't worth
crying about."

Katie was easily persuaded to give it up.

"You may keep