tion, that nearly all had bits of my cake in their hands, and
were talking it over with the most flattering interest. My particular
little girl, with a friend on each arm, passed so near me that I could
see the happy look in her eyes, and hear her say, with a toss of the
bright hair,--

"Mother will plan it for me, and I can get it done by New Year. Won't it
be fun to hang it on the door some day, and then run?"

I fancied that she meant to make something for me, and waited with
patience, wondering how this odd frolic with my little school-girl would
end.

New Year's Day came and passed, but no gift hung on my door; so I made
up my mind it was all a mistake, and, being pretty busy about that time,
thought no more of the matter till some weeks later, as I came into town
one day after a visit in the country.

I am fond of observing faces, and seldom forget one if anything has
particularly attracted my attention to it. So this morning, as I rode
along, I looked at the conductor, as there was no one else to observe,
and he had a pleasant sort of face. Somehow, it looked familiar, and
after thinking idly about it for a minute, I remembered where I had
seen it before.

He was the man who waited for "little missy," and I at once began to
hope that she would come again, for I wanted to ask about the holidays,
remembering how "fond of fun" she was.

When we came to the South End Square, where I met her first, I looked
out, expecting to see the little figure running down the wide path
again, and quite willing to wait for it a long time if necessary. But no
one was to be seen but two boys and a dog. The car did not stop, and
though the conductor looked out that way, his hand was not on the strap,
and no smile on his face.

"Don't you wait for the little girl now?" I asked, feeling disappointed
at not seeing my pretty friend again.

"I wish I could, ma'am," answered the man, understanding at once, though
of course he did not remember me.

"New rules, perhaps?" I added, as he did not explain, but stood
fingering his punch, and never minding an old lady, wildly waving her
bag at him from the sidewalk.

"No, ma'am; but it's no use waiting for little missy any more,
because"--here he leaned in and said, very low,--"she is dead;" then
turned sharply round, rung the bell, put the old lady in and shut the
door.

How grieved I was to have that pleasant friendship end so sadly, for I
had planned many small surprises for my gi