would not be right. I will see that Jamie and his
brothers and sisters have something for their dinner to-morrow that will
please them as much as the pie, and you must tell Newton to go on with
the seat, and----"

"But, mother," interrupted Ted, "I won't be happy unless I pay it
myself, the dinner I mean. It wouldn't be _fair_, if I didn't--would
it, mother?" and he looked up with his honest, anxious blue eyes in his
mother's face, so that she felt the same wish to stoop down and kiss him
that had made her do so long ago in the street of the little country
town near their old home.

"I was going on to speak about that," said his mother. "It will take all
your money and a little more to pay Newton, you see, and you haven't any
more."

"No, mother, but if I was to give up my library pennies?"--for Ted
subscribed a penny a week to a children's library in the town, as he had
long ago exhausted the home stores.

"That would take a _very_ long time, and it would be a pity for you to
lose your reading," said his mother. "But I'll tell you what--I will
count the dinner as owing from you to me, and you will pay it as best
you can, little by little. For every summer you get presents from your
uncles or cousins when they are with us. I will count it two shillings
and sixpence--the sixpence for the dish, and I know you will not forget
to pay me."

"No indeed, mother, and thank you _so_ much," said Ted, with a now
really lightened heart. "Shall I tell Jamie about the dinner? I could go
that way when I go back to Newton's. He will be so pleased. His mother
didn't scold him, but yet I couldn't help being _very_ sorry for him.
His face did look so unhappy."

And when, after dinner, Ted ran off again, I think the pleasure of the
good news in store for poor Jamie was quite as much in his mind as his
own errand to Newton's.

The seat was a great success. Newton came that very evening to measure
it exactly, and Ted had the satisfaction of making some suggestions
which the carpenter thought very good ones, as to the best way of
fastening it firmly. And on Monday evening the work was accomplished.
Never, surely, were two birds in a nest more happy than Ted and Cissy,
when, for the first time, they mounted up on to their airy throne. Their
mother, busy among her flowers, was surprised by a sound of soft singing
over her head, coming from at first she could not tell where. She stood
still to listen--she had, for the moment, forgotten