he made me come out of the
water before I wanted to, and _that_ was _very_ naughty; I begged her
pardon, though, and gave her a piece of my _tandy_, that papa had
brought me. Now, my dear peoples, I think that is long enough. S'pose we
sing, 'I want to be an angel.'"

[Illustration: PLAYING CHURCH.]

Wasn't that a cunning little sermon? It put me in mind of how I used to
play church in my childhood, long ago; when my young brother, dear
little Davy, would stand on a chair, while I sat on my stool at his
feet, and preach a sermon something like Robby's. Darling Davy! I
fancied I could see his sweet face and earnest eyes looking down at me,
from his happy home in heaven that Sunday afternoon; for he closed those
dark eyes on this weary earth many long years since, and I never think
of him now but as standing on the chair in our father's study (with,
perhaps, mother looking in, unknown to him), and preaching from some
simple text that we knew and loved, in quaint, yet childish words. Ah,
well! perhaps it was better so, than that he should have lived to be a
gray-headed old bachelor like "brother Jose!"

So the children all sang the hymn, and that was the end of church. We
passed the rest of the afternoon telling Bible stories, and repeating
hymns, and after tea it was clear once more, and dry enough to go out on
the bluff.

You may be sure, we were all in famous spirits Monday morning, and ready
for any sort of a frolic. Who could help being good humored with such
company as my little neighbors? Mr. Lawson left us in the first train
for the city; but, to make up, who should have come down in the early
morning boat, but Tom Halstead and Miss Elsie Bluejay--or Brandlaw, I
ought to say, since I know her name now; and they drove straight up to
the Mansion House, of course--who wouldn't, when Neighbor Nelly was
there? The children received Tom with shouts of joy; and he looked so
handsome and happy, and his great black eyes sparkled so with good humor
and fun, that I felt quite ready to admit him into my circle of little
people that I knew and loved. Neighbor Nelly and he were an admirable
contrast in point of appearance, and I shouldn't be surprised if the
last remark made to me in strict confidence, by my friend Tom in his
account of her, should come true some day.

I wish I could sketch a little picture of our party as we clustered
together on the piazza, to show what manner of people we were then; and
another, of our