opened and his father entered, with anything but a placid countenance.

"What is all this noise ?" he demanded. "Can't I get an afternoon nap in peace? This is the third afternoon, sir, that I have tried to sleep and you have awakened me with your abominable noise."

"She hurts me," sobbed Fred.

"His hair's so stucked up, sir," Bridget began, apologetically.

Mr. Markham viewed Fred's head, and a ray of compassion illuminated his cloudy brow as he tossed him a piece of silver, saying:

"Keep as quiet as you can till your hair is brushed, then go and buy yourself some candy."

Fred picked up the silver as his father left the room, and only kicked quietly through the remainder of the combing process. When it was ended and Bridget pronounced him presentable, he turned upon her with "Now give me another!"

Bridget looked perplexed.

"Another five cents," said Fred. "Come, you've got it, you know you have."

Bridget denied the owning of a penny even, but Fred stole her pocket-book out of her pocket, and pillaged the contents. There wasn't much money, but a lock of hair tied with a bit of blue ribbon, that Fred persisted in keeping despite Bridget's woeful entreaties that he should return it to her.

"Fred," called a mild voice outside the door, "I'm going up stairs, and if you are ready I want you to come."

"I don't want ter," said Fred.

"Do not say 'ter,' Freddy. Come, and I will show you my diamonds."

"Give me one ?" asked Fred.

"Come and see which one you like the best."

"Here, pick it up!" said Fred, throwing the pocket-book back at Bridget.

"You ought not to plague Bridget," his mother said, reprovingly, as he accompanied her up stairs.

"If you give me the biggest diamond, I wont, only when she pulls my hair," said Fred.

Notwithstanding this promise and others similar to it, Fred's mother did not seem inclined to give him even the smallest diamond in her casket, at which Fred declared his intention of throwing himself down stairs.

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"Fred!" cried his mother, putting down her jewel box and hastening after him.

No Fred met her view, but a sound of something falling, falling down the stairs greeted her terrified ears. She tottered a few steps forward, and fell fainting on the floor, as Fred rushed from behind the screen where he was hiding with a loud huzzah.

"Twas the sofa-pillow!" he cried; then paused, sobered and uncertain, as he beheld his mother lying cold and senseless at his feet.

He knelt beside her, speechless for a moment, then he implored her to waken and speak to him. Her voice did not anHer cold hand refused to return the pressure of his own.

swer.

"I've killed my mother!" he cried, in a voice of terror. "O dear, O dear, O dear! What shall I do, what shall I do, what shall I do ?"

If Bridget heard him, she thought it only his usual sound of lamentation, for she went on quietly with her sewing until Fred appeared, looking so like a phantom of himself that she uttered an involuntary scream, and demanded, with a host of startling epithets, what ailed him.

"Come," he moaned, beckoning her to follow him, 66 come quick, quick, quick!"

Bridget hastened in a state of alarm nearly as great as Fred's to where Mrs. Markham lay, and perceiving that she had fainted took immediate means to restore her.

Meanwhile, Fred's loud lamentations brought his father to the spot, a physician was speedily summoned, and before morning Fred became possessed of a little brother. The little one, having entered too soon into life, staid but a moment, closing his eyes to earth before the dew of heaven had been brushed from off his heaven-born soul.

"Don't cry," said Fred to his mother. "Haven't you got me, all growed up and ready?"

"Yes, I have you, my darling," Mrs.

Markham said, taking the great boy into her lap and covering him with kisses.

But she considered now, more than ever, he would become a selfish spoiled child, and in the course of time she began to talk of adopting a companion for him. Fred objected to a little brother, but the prospect of a little sister was more pleasing to him.

"If she has long curls, and red cheeks, and black eyes, shiny ones like the pretty little girl we saw in the shop window, I don't care if I do have a little sister," he said.

"That was only a wax little girl," his mother said; "a real live sister would be a great deal nicer and prettier."

"Well, if you can find a little sister for me that I shall like, you may get one," Fred said.

CHAPTER II.

YOUTHFUL TYRANNY.

MRS. MARKHAM succeeded at last in finding a little girl whom she determined to adopt; a child who had but one living relative, a brother a number of years older than herself. They had lived with an old woman who was quite willing to part with the girl, whose pretty face and well-worn tambourine did not earn her a livelihood.

"Lelia," as Mrs. Markham decided to call her, had a dark but delicate complexion, an oval face and perfect features. Her eyes were large, and of that dark purplish blue that borders upon black. Her expression was one of wistfulness, irresistibly charming. Her form was slight and perfect, and her motions very graceful. Fred was greatly delighted with her, and lifted with admiration her pretty brown curls, which afterward it gave him great pleasure to touch less tenderly.

Despite Bridget's predictions, however, he did not put out Leila's eyes; at least, at the end of three weeks she still retained them, although she might have had doubts of calling them her own. Fred thought them beautiful eyes, but nevertheless entertained himself by accidentally running his fingers into them whenever opportunity offered.

Leila endured his persecutions with true martyr-like spirit, until one day, provoked beyond endurance, she turned upon him, and catching his hand between her teeth,

bit him so that he screamed with the suffering inflicted. Mrs. Markham hastened from an adjoining room, and hastily separated the children.

"Fred, Leila," she exclaimed, "what do you mean?" And she took Leila not over

gently by the arm.

"Why did you bite him ?" she demanded. Leila hid her face in her apron, making no reply.

"I pounded her," said Fred, "and I like her better for biting me back again." "You are both naughty children, and I think I must speak of this to your father, Fred."

"O no!" implored Fred; for then he would send Leila away. Let us both go without our suppers and we'll be awful good to-morrow, wont we, Leila ?"

66

"Yes," sobbed Leila. "O Fred, I'm so sorry!"

"I aint; I'm glad," said Fred. "I like you spunky."

Mrs. Markham acted upon Fred's suggestion, and sent both the children to bed without supper, and the next day, true to their promise, they were very good children.

But Fred had not been in the habit of tyrannizing and tormenting all his life to get over it at once and entirely, because he had met with an antagonist worthy of him. He soon began his old practices upon Leila, and this with more vehemence, because they met with resistance. He pulled her hair till Leila, in sheer self-defence, stole a pair of scissors and cut off her curls, for which she was severely reprimanded. Then Fred told her she was a homely little thing, and he could not bear to look at her, and he was going to tell his father to send her away. Leila's eyes filled with tears.

"I'll go away myself," she said, "and you shan't look at me. I'd rather go than stay."

"My head aches," moaned Leila, as she sobbed on Mrs. Markham's shoulder.

"Fred, you ought to be ashamed," said Mrs. Markham; "Leila is really sick." Summoning John she sent for Dr. Croy, and Fred was sent ignominiously to bed.

CHAPTER III.

But

"I DO LOVE YOU, LELIA.” DR. CROY pronounced Leila threatened with a fever, and advised that she should be taken at once into the country. Fred's treatment had so far assisted the fever that it arrived too soon for the proposed change, and Mrs. Markham, secretly blaming herself for not having observed the little girl's illness sooner, tended her night and day, and acquired for her the true tenderness of a mother.

Although somewhat jealous of his mother's attachment for Leila, Fred endured it with a good grace, for him, and joined in the general rejoicing when Leila showed signs of recovery, and the physician pronounced her out of danger.

"Now we'll all go to the country, and keep Leila well again," he said.

As this was Fred's desire, to the country they went as soon as Leila could be moved there.

A happy summer out of doors made another being of pretty Leila, and Mrs. Markham added pride to her love, and if she had once succeeded in spoiling Fred, she was equally impartial toward her little adopted daughter, with this difference: where Fred had grown willful and overbearing, Leila grew charming, dependent and winning. It was difficult to deny the child any request, and, not slow in discovering this, she was, in her way, quite as contrary as the less persuasive Fred. Developing a taste for music, she was at once provided with the best of masters, and, incited by her example, Fred also made the most of his talent in this direction. Both he and Leila were sent to dancing-school, and became proficients in the art there taught.

Mr. and Mrs. Markham had every worldly reason to be proud of their children, and proud of them they were. Rarely, if ever, was Leia reminded of her early life. But on one occasion, when Fred and Leila were walking in the street, they met an awkward

ungainly boy, who paused a moment in front of them, exclaiming:

“Halloo, sis! whar's yer tambourine ?"

Before Leila recovered from the consternation into which this speech had thrown her, Fred had flung aside the music-book in his hand, collared the boy and kicked him soundly. The boy slunk away, Fred drew Leila's hand within his arm, and marched home with a policeman after him.

"You're following the wrong boy," said Fred, turning round upon him. "I couldn't stand by and see a lady insulted, could I?" The policeman glanced at Leila, and thought not.

"Another time leave the kicking to me," he said, and passed on.

Despite Fred's comforting, this incident was a very trying one for Leila.

"I cannot walk in the street again," she sobbed, for fear of that awful boy."

66

Mr. Markham assured her that that "awful boy" should never trouble her again. Fred himself was the next to taunt his adopted sister with her early occupation. He was fond of defending Leila and of admiring her himself, but he was not fond of having others defend her against him, or of having them admire her. He was often very jealous on his own account at the superior notice Leila was sure to attract wherever they were together.

Leila

One evening they were at a party, was bewitching in white muslin and rosebuds, and Fred had admired her extensively before they started from home, and had kissed her on either cheek, and called her his "dear, beautiful sister Lelia," and had whispered in her ear that he loved her better than anybody else in the world. Leila had blushed, well pleased with Fred's praise, for it was often difficult to win. Yet, at the party, where everybody else was sounding Leila's praises, Fred became dissatisfied.

"Seems to me you don't dance very well to-night," he said.

"I've danced so much," said Leila, "perhaps I'm tired."

"Perhaps Don't you know?" asked Fred, crossly. "If you're tired we'd better go home."

"O, don't speak of going home," said Lelia, "when we're having such a beautiful time!"'

“Beautiful time! Who's having a beautiful time?" he demanded.

Leila put her tiny fan over his mouth and shook her head.

"You mustn't talk so loud," she said. "If you want to dance some more, I'll try and dance good with you."

Fred replied with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, and some one coming to claim Leila for the dance she lost sight of him, and although she sought for him, did not see him again until it was time for them to go home, and he went to look for her in the dressing-room.

"O Fred," she exclaimed, "I'm so glad to see you! I was afraid you had gone home."

Fred paid no attention to this, but looking round, said, somewhat ungraciously, to a pretty blue-eyed miss:

"You can go along with us if you want to, Susie."

"Thank you," said Susie. "If Lelia don't mind I should like to, for brother hasn't come."

"O," said Fred, " "you needn't mind Tambourine?"

Leila's lip quivered, and she treated Fred to a scornful glance out of her beautiful eyes, as she said:

When Leila heard him approaching, she sprang up and ran to her own room.

"Leil" he called, faintly, after her; but as she made him no reply, "Bother it all!" he said; "I never saw anybody get. angry at nothing, as she does."

Mrs. Markham tried to discover the causeof variance, but could not, either from Fred or Lelia. Fred confessed to having said something that he was sorry for. "But I didn't think Leil would be such a goosey as to mind it."

Leila, however, choose to be a 'goosey' for several days, keeping by herself as much as possible, and not allowing herself to speak to Fred.

"My dear," said Mrs. Markham, "what did he say to you?"

"I would rather not repeat it," said Lelia. "It was something very unkind, and that I never can forgive."

"But Fred is very sorry," urged Mrs. Markham," and I think you ought to try and forgive him, Lelia.”

Lelia shook her head.

"He will say it again, and I cannot forgive him."

"I am sure he will not say it again," Mrs. Markham said; "and indeed, Leila, I desire you to make up with Fred, for he is feeling very unhappy."

"So am I," said Lelia.

However, she was too truly fond of Mrs. Markham to distress her by continuing the

"Come along," he continued, offering his arm to Susie, "and don't forget your tambourine."

Leila pushed past them both, and before Fred was aware of her purpose, she was out in the street walking home alone.

Fred put Susie, much against her will, into the carriage that awaited himself and Lelia, and followed the last on foot.

She reached home before him, and Mrs. Markham was much surprised to see her enter the house alone.

"Where's Fred ?" she asked.

Leila's only reply was a sob and a flood of tears.

"O Lelia, tell me what has happened to my boy!"

"Nothing," said Lelia, stifling her sobs; "nothing has happened to Fred."

Which assertion Fred made good by entering the house, whistling to keep his spirits up.

Fred she did not avoid him, and answered when he spoke to her, though in very few words and with downcast eyes.

"Come, Lelia, I'm sorry," said Fred; "I'm sorry and ashamed of what I said to you. What can a fellow say more? Let's make it up."

Leila wiped a tear from her eye, and turned away her face from him. "Leila!"

He took hold of her hand and drew her toward him. She resisted him.

"If you said you were sorry, I would forgive you," said Fred.

"I would not say such unkind things to you," said Lelia, now fairly sobbing.

Fred, feeling extremely bad, did not know what to say, and took tighter hold of Leila's hand, as if in that way to express his sorrow.

.

"O Fred," she exclaimed, suddenly, “I thought you loved me!"

"I do" cried Fred; "I do love you, Leila."

"And you are not ashamed to have me for a sister?"

"Ashamed, Lelia? I'm so proud of you that it makes me jealous when I boast of you to the boys to have them praise you, too."

Leila began to smile through her tears. "Yes," said Fred, "I'm as jealous as if, as if I did not love you as a sister." "As if you did not love me as a sister ?' ' repeated Leila.

"Then if you really do love me so much," said Lelia, "I'll forgive you for calling me-"

Fred placed his hand over her mouth.

"Yes, I really do love you so much, Leila dear," he whispered; "and, by-andby, Leila, when we're both a good deal older, will you promise-"

He put his lips close to her ear, and spoke so low that nobody but Leila could hear what he said.

"I'm your sister," answered Leila, laughing and blushing, with both her little white hands over her face.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

Ir was Saturday afternoon, and Nan and Jack were in high spirits on their half holiday.

"I wish 'twas always Saturday afternoon!" said Jack; "'specially in summer. O my! wouldn't it be splendid if Saturday would reach over into Monday? Going to church is worse than going to school!"

Nan heaved a deep-drawn sigh, but ventured no other response to this very unorthodox sentiment. It was a June day, and the skies were as blue as skies ever were; there was just enough wind to keep the daisies and buttercups from going to sleep, and to ruffle the brooks into dimples and laughter. The birds were making their merriest music, and the field was so full of sunshine that there was hardly room for a shadow to tuck itself in anywhere.

"I wonder if the honeysuckles are blossomed yet, and if the cowslips are all gone, so I can't make any cowslip-balls ?" said Nan.

Jack made no reply; honeysuckles and cowslip-balls were of small account to him; woodchuck's holes, berries, and wood for bows and arrows, engaged his mind. And in spite of Nan's remonstrances, he carried a great trap under his arm. He was going to set it for woodchucks.

"I know where there's two birds' nests," said he, "and if you wont tell, I'll show 'em to you. I don't know as I can find 'em, though. I didn't dare to stick up any stakes, for fear Tom Jones would find them. He's no business in this field, any

way; but he's always here, just as 'twere his father's, 'sted of mine."

"Yes," said Nan; "and he's a very bad boy. I'm afraid he'll steal the little birds. He hasn't got any more conchings than that. Hannah says so." Conscience she

meant.

Jack searched around a long time without success, but at last, under a little roof of drooping lady-ferns and half-opened red honeysuckles, he found one of the shy little domiciles. The mother bird was away, and there were four puny little birds, stretching their mouths to the widest extent. Nan uttered a scream of delight, and Jack began a hurried search for worms and bugs to drop into those gaping yellow throats; and if the careful little brown mother had not returned just as she did, I would not have answered for the lives of the nestlings. When she discovered the children, she began to fly backward and forward in the most excited manner; but they quickly retreated, and with a contented little coo, she settled down in her nest. "O my goodness!' said Nan, stooping to pick a foxglove at her feet; "these are what the fairies wear for caps. Pat says So. He brought one home to me from the woods one day. His mother saw a fairy once, and she wore one right on the top of her head. Pat says where they grow in Ireland there are always fairies round; but Hannah says they're nothing but foxgloves, and she's seen heaps of them in the woods!"