the grass-plot, and to gather up the bright tin pans and pails that had been sunning on the long benches.  Grandma, throwing her apron over her head, ran to see that some precious young turkeys were under shelter.  The visitors hurried to the door, bewailing the windows they had left open at home, and hoping their husbands would have sense enough to see to things.  And the mamma ran upstairs to close the windows and potter over some collars and ruffles that had blown about, never thinking of baby on the uncovered piazza.

[Illustration:  LILY-TOES IN THE SHOWER.]

Oh, how it poured!  Grandpa and his man got as far as the wagon-shed just as the worst came, and they stayed there.  Grandma was weather-bound along with her young turkeys in the granary.  And Lily-toes!—­no one will ever know what her reflections were for a few moments.  I imagine she rather liked the first drops; for she was always fond of plashing about in her bath-tub, and had no fear of water in reasonable quantities.  But when the wind began to dash the rain in her face, probably she first gasped in astonishment, and then kicked, and, eventually, as everybody knew, screamed!  Yes; aunties, visitors, and mamma, as they met in the hall and shrieked to each other about the storm, heard, at last, in the lull of the gale, a sound of indignant squalling.

Then there was another scamper.  Lily-toes was snatched in-doors and borne along amid a tempest of astonishment and pity, until one visitor burst out laughing; and then all laughed except the mamma, who kept a straight face until baby stopped crying and smiled around on them like wet sunlight.

Before grandma could reach the house, Lily-toes had been rubbed very dry and put into dry clothes; but her wrapper and petticoats and stockings and blue shoes, lying in a sopping heap on the floor, told the tale to grandma and grandpa and the hired man, who all agreed it was a burning shame to forget Lily-toes, even for five minutes; and the hired man went so far as to remark that, “If there had been a few more women-folks in the house, she’d most likely been drown-ded.”  And Lily-toes looked at him gratefully, as if he had spoken the very words she had longed to say.

“THANKS TO YOU.”

BY MARY E. BRADLEY.

[Illustration]

  Every day for a month of Sundays,
  Saturdays, Tuesdays, Fridays, Mondays,
  Jack had pondered the various means
  And methods pertaining to grinding machines,
  Until he was sure he could build a wheel
  That, given the sort of dam that’s proper,
  Would only need some corn in the hopper
  To turn out very respectable meal.

  Jerry and Jane and Jo, and the others,
  Jack’s incredulous sisters and brothers,
  Gave him credit for good intentions,
  But took no stock in the boy’s inventions. 
  In fact they laughed them quite to scorn;
  Instead of wasting his time, they said,
  He would be more likely to earn his bread
  Planting potatoes or hoeing corn!