But by and by Alice grew tired of this, and jumped up quickly.  Over went the little table, scattering things everywhere.  Such a litter!  “I’ll just leave it all,” thought Alice.  Then a little voice inside said.  “Pick it all up and help mamma.”  After a minute, the little girl obeyed this pleasant voice, and picked up every scrap.  Then she ran downstairs without stopping at the sewing room door, though she wanted to.

“Peggy Morlinda,” she said, taking dolly from her cradle, “is you all by yourself, too?  Isn’t it lonesome?  Come, I’ll put you to sleep.”

Peggy was soon asleep, or supposed to be, though her eyes were still staring.

“Now I will go take one little peek at mamma.” said Alice, starting upstairs, but stopping next step.  “No.  I won’t neiver,” she said bravely.  “I won’t ’sturb mamma one bit.”

After this the little girl found amusement for awhile at the library window.  Next, she went back to the picture books, and read a long story, all made up out of her own head, to Peggy Morlinda, who woke up to listen.  But what a long morning it was!  She did not enjoy it much, but she made up her mind about one thing—­she wouldn’t “’sturb mamma.”

At last papa came home and Alice ran to him to be tossed up and down, and they had a fine frolic.

“Have you gotten along nicely with your work?” asked papa of mamma at dinner.

“Very nicely, thank you,” said mamma.  “Alice helped me a great deal!”

“Alice!” exclaimed papa, looking as surprised as possible.  “Can Alice sew?”

Mamma laughed.  “Oh, no, indeed, not yet,” she said, “but she gave me a fine chance to do it.  She amused herself all morning and did not ask me to do anything for her, so we got on beautifully with the work in the sewing room.”

[Illustration:  “Peggy Morlinda, is you all by yourself, too?”]

“Good girl,” said papa, and Alice looked as happy as she felt.  Oh, how glad she was that she had not left those scraps of paper for mamma to pick up!  It is always safe to listen to the little inward voice that says, “Do right.”

“Do tell me a story,” “What can I play?” “What shall I do next?” the little folks cry to the grown-ups, and all these things take time to attend to.  If the children who are too small to do any work to “help mamma,” would oftener amuse themselves, as Alice did, they would help much more than perhaps they think.—­Written for Dew Drops by Mary Harris.

* * * * *

Our skating Rink.

    The wind blew shrill, the sky was gray: 
      “Oh, dear,” sighed Molly, “how it rains! 
    Let’s think of some new game to play,
      I’m getting very tired of trains.”

    “I know,” said Jack:  “it will be fun!”
      And seized some paper, pen and ink;
    “Look, look,” cried Susie, “what he’s done: 
      He’s written, ‘To the Skating Rink!’”