t you?" said Jack.

"Certainly, my boy, I will, every penny. Except, perhaps, the old silver
sixpence. Suppose we give that to the mother as a keepsake?"

"Very well, you know best. All I want is that she shall have a good
time, a very good time. She's such a good mother."

"Jack," said Susy, "you make me think of some verses I saw in a book
the other day. Let me read them to you." And Cousin Susy, who had a way
of copying favorite poems and keeping them, fished out this one from her
basket:

LITTLE HANS.

Little Hans was helping mother
Carry home the lady's basket;
Chubby hands of course were lifting
One great handle--can you ask it?
As he tugged away beside her,
Feeling oh! so brave and strong,
Little Hans was softly singing
To himself a little song:

"Some time I'll be tall as father,
Though I think it's very funny,
And I'll work and build big houses,
And give mother all the money,
For," and little Hans stopped singing,
Feeling oh! so strong and grand,
"I have got the sweetest mother
You can find in all the land."

Now, some people couldn't do very much with the funds at Cousin Susy's
disposal, but she could, and when Jack's money was spent for
refreshments what do you think they had? Why, a great big pan of
gingerbread, all marked out in squares with the knife, and raisins in
it; and a round loaf of cup cake, frosted over with sugar, with
thirty-six tiny tapers all ready to light, and a pitcher of lemonade, a
plate of apples, and a big platter of popped corn.

Jack danced for joy, but softly, for mother had come home from her day's
work and was tired, and the party was to be a surprise, and she was not
to be allowed to step into the little square parlor.

That parlor was the pride of Jack and his mother. It had a bright rag
carpet, a table with a marble top, six chairs, and a stool called an
ottoman. On the wall between the windows hung a framed picture of Jack's
dear father, who was in heaven, and over the mantelpiece there was a
framed bouquet of flowers, embroidered by Jack's mother on white satin,
when she had been a girl at school.

"Seems to me, Jack," said Mrs. Hillyard as she sat down in the kitchen
to her cup of tea, "there is a smell of fresh gingerbread; I wonder
who's having company."

Jack almost bit his tongue trying not to laugh.

"Oh!" said he grandly, "gingerbread isn't anything, mamma. When I'm