WHY MINNIE COULD NOT SLEEP.

She sat up in bed. The curtain was drawn up and she saw the moon, and it
looked as if it were laughing at her.

"You need not look at me, moon," she said. "You don't know about it; you
can't see in the daytime. Besides, I am going to sleep."

She lay down and tried to go to sleep. Her clock on the mantel went
"tick-tock, tick-tock." She generally liked to hear it, but to-night it
sounded just as if it said, "I know, I know, I know."

"You don't know, either," said Minnie, opening her eyes wide. "You
weren't there, you old thing! You were upstairs."

Her loud noise awoke the parrot. He took his head from under his wing
and cried out, "Polly did!"

"That's a wicked story, you naughty bird," said Minnie. "You were in
grandma's room; so now!"

Then Minnie tried to go to sleep again. She lay down and counted white
sheep, just as grandma said she did when she couldn't sleep. But there
was a big lump in her throat. "Oh, I wish I hadn't!"

Pretty soon there came a very soft patter of four little feet, and her
pussy jumped upon the bed, kissed Minnie's cheek, and then began to
"pur-r-r-r, pur-r-r." It was very queer, but that, too, sounded as if
pussy said, "I know, I know."

"Yes, you do know, kitty," said Minnie, and then she threw her arms
around kitty's neck and cried bitterly. "And--I guess--I
want--to--see--my--mamma!"

Mamma opened her eyes when she saw the little weeping girl coming, and
then Minnie told her the miserable story.

"I was awfully naughty, mamma, but I did want the custard pie so bad,
and so I ate it up, 'most a whole pie, and then--I--I--I--Oh, I don't
want to tell, but I 'spect I must; I shut kitty in the pantry to make
you think she did it. But I'm truly sorry, mamma."

Then mamma told Minnie that she had known all about it. But she had
hoped that the little daughter would be brave enough to tell her all
about it herself.

"But mamma," she asked, "how did you know it wasn't kitty?"

"Because kitty would never have left a spoon in the pie," replied mamma,
smiling.

--_Selected._

HOW ROBBIE HELPED.

Little Robbie Denham was a good boy, though very active and full of
play.

Aunt Abbie Peyton had been spending a few days with the Denhams, and one
afternoon as she sat talking with Robbie, she said:

"Do you do something to help someone each day, Robbie?"

Robbie laid Nab, the kitten, down and sat in deep thought for a moment,
after which h