“So now I’m done.  And I will give you a kiss to remember it by.”

If Maud Anna Belinda did not need Elsie’s advice, that is not saying that some of us may not.

—­Selected.

“That boy looks like a gentleman,” said poor little Harry, looking at that boy’s nice clothes and then at his own poor ones.

He got on a street car.  Soon he gave up his seat to a woman, and picked up her gloves.

“You’re a little gentleman,” she said.

You can be a gentleman, no matter how shabby your clothes.

HOW THE DAY WAS CHANGED

By Mary E. Bamford

Ralph and Emma and little Paul were sitting in a big circle.  There were others in the circle, too.  There were the eight dolls, and the little wooden dog that squeaked, and the fuzzy little rabbit that squeaked, and the lop-eared toy donkey, and the tiny elephant that stood alone.  So many toys, and yet nobody seemed happy but baby Paul, who was trying to swallow his two little thumbs.

[Illustration:  So many toys and yet nobody seemed happy but baby Paul.]

In the middle of the circle was a tray with little dishes, and Emma held a tiny cup in her hand, for the children were just finishing a make-believe dinner party that had water and two apples for refreshments.

“Winter parties, when its raining outdoors, aren’t much fun,” grumbled Emma.

“It’d be lots nicer if we could have our party outdoors, and pick apples off trees,” grumbled Ralph.

“Twees,” echoed baby Paul, trying to swallow his thumbs.

“It just rains and rains,” said Emma dolefully.

“Wains,” echoed baby Paul.

Baby Paul had stopped swallowing his thumbs.  What was it he saw in Emma’s face?  Was everything so bad?

“Yes, it just rains and rains,” complained Ralph dolefully.

Baby Paul looked at Ralph, and saw the same thing he had seen in Emma’s face.  Oh, thing’s must be very bad when big brother and sister looked so sad!  It must be nearly time to cry!

Back of the children was a nice warm fire in the grate.  The room was comfortable, but baby Paul missed something from the atmosphere.  He could not have told what it was, but he began to whimper.

“Don’t you go to crying!” said Emma crossly.  “It’s bad enough to be shut in by the rain without your crying.”

Baby Paul cried softly to himself.  Thumbs were no comfort now.

Emma went over to the window.  She looked dolefully out at the rain.  By and by she saw a man going into a house on the corner.  The man had a case with him.

“Oh,” said Emma to herself, “that’s the doctor who went there yesterday!  The Brown baby must be real sick.”

The doctor stayed a good while.  By and by he came out again into the rain.  Emma ran to the telephone in the next room, and telephoned to the Browns.  Yes, the baby was very, very sick.