g that I meant to give her all along; and this would be a famous
chance. It was a nest of little boxes, made of plaid papier-mache, about
a dozen, one inside the other; and when you came to the very last, and
had opened that, there was a gold thimble and scissors, and a little
gold bodkin, a needlecase full of tiny needles, and a puncher, just big
enough for the queen of the fairies; I won it at a raffle on Christmas
Eve, and kept it to give to some little girl, for, of course, it wasn't
any use to me; what could I do with a thimble and needles? Sure enough,
when I looked out of the back parlor window next morning, Neighbor Nelly
looked out of _her_ window, said with a saucy smile, "Good morning, Mr.
Tom--Philopoena!" and popped back again.

"Good!" I said. So, after breakfast, I asked Aunt Elsie for a nice sheet
of paper and a new pen, and then I ran up to my own room, and sat down
to write a little note to my neighbor. I'm sure, that showed how much I
liked her, if anything could, for I'd rather do a sum in compound
fractions, or a French exercise, than write a note. It quite gives me
the toothache; but at last I wrote something very pretty, as, I'm sure,
you will say when I repeat it to you. This is what I said:

"MY DEAR MISS NELLY:

"I hope you will accept the little present I send
you for a Philopoena, because I like you very
much. I am real glad you caught me, for perhaps
this will remind you of me when I go back to
school. I hope the needles will sew all the holes
in your clothes, that the thimble will keep you
from pricking your pretty little finger, and that

"If you loves I as I loves you,
The scissors won't cut our love in two.

"Good-by.
"From your affectionate friend
"TOM."

Then I packed up the boxes and the letter in nice white paper, and
coaxed Mary to take it in right away; and you can't tell how many
pretty, smiling thanks I had in return.

But you think I am making my story too long, Neighbor Oldbird? Well,
perhaps I am, but there seems to be so much to tell about Nelly, and the
nice times we had together, that I don't know when to stop. I am 'most
through now.

The day I sent her the Philopoena present was the last of my stay in
town; and after I had packed up my clothes ready to start (with a
gorgeous plum cake and two jars o