lourish, and scatter, rattle, helter-skelter, out
flew a half-dozen pink thimble cakes, down upon the floor, back into
Mrs. Smiley's pew, and to Johnnie's horror one pat into the deacon's
plate!

The good man's eyes tried not to twinkle as he removed the unusual
offering, and passed on more quickly than was his wont.

Miserable Johnnie, with his face as red as a rooster's comb and eyes
cast down in shame, saw nothing but the green squares on the carpet
and the dreadful pink-frosted cakes. He was sure that every one in the
church was glaring at him; probably even grandma had forsaken him, and
each moment he dreaded--he knew not what.

To his surprise, the service seemed to go right on as usual. Another
hymn was sung, and then there was a general settling down for the
sermon. Very soon he began to grow tired of just gazing at the floor,
yet he dared not look up, and by and by the heavy eyes drooped and
Johnny was fast asleep.

All was now quiet in the meeting-house save the calm, steady voice of
the preacher. Pretty soon a wee creature dressed all in soft brown
stole across the floor of a certain pew. She was a courageous little
body indeed, but what mother would not venture a good deal for her
hungry babies? Such a repast as this was certainly the opportunity of
a lifetime. Looking cautiously around, then concluding that all was
safe, she disappeared down a hole in a corner way under the seat. In a
twinkling she was back again; this time, however, she was not alone.
Four little ones pattered after Mamma Mouse, and eight bright eyes
spied a dinner worth running for.

Never mind what they did; but when Johnnie awoke at the strains of
the closing hymn and tried to remember what had gone wrong, he saw
nothing of the pink-frosted cakes save some scattered crumbs.

What could have become of them, he thought, in bewilderment.

He hardly knew how he got out of the church that day, but he found
himself rushing down the road a sadder and a wiser boy. Grandma and
papa had remained to chat. Johnnie did not feel like chatting to-day.

When he reached the house he did not go in, but out to the hayloft,
his favourite resort in time of trouble. When the dinner bell sounded,
notwithstanding the delicious Thanksgiving odours which had been
wafted even to the barn, it was an unwelcome summons; yet go he must,
and walking sheepishly into the dining-room, he slunk into his chair.

"Well, John," said his father, as he helped him to