. St. Nicholas [serial]. of her guests. At last steps were heard at the door, and as theknocker fell, the daintily dressed young girls descendedto welcome, with Mrs. Willard, the first arrivals, andbe introduced in rapid succession to one after anotheras they appeared. After a short time, a hush stole over the crowdedrooms. The conversation ceased for an instant as all turned to look at the distinguished-looking, soldierly man withwhom their hostess was speaking. And then, after every one else, the inmates of theschool were presented to the guest of honor. Eachcurtsied in response to his profo
. St. Nicholas [serial]. of her guests. At last steps were heard at the door, and as theknocker fell, the daintily dressed young girls descendedto welcome, with Mrs. Willard, the first arrivals, andbe introduced in rapid succession to one after anotheras they appeared. After a short time, a hush stole over the crowdedrooms. The conversation ceased for an instant as all turned to look at the distinguished-looking, soldierly man withwhom their hostess was speaking. And then, after every one else, the inmates of theschool were presented to the guest of honor. Eachcurtsied in response to his profound bow, and passedon. The last in line was a sweet little maid of twelve, theyoungest of all. The great man looked at her a moment, and thenbent impulsively and kissed her red lips. Turning to the head mistress, he said courteously: Madam, it has never before been my good fortuneto see so charming a group of young ladies. Thus I have liked to imagine the evening when mygreat-aunt was kissed by the Marquis de NOTICE. This is the last month for takingpart in Chapter Competition No. wishing to take part shouldform chapters now. Badge and in-struction leaflet will be sent free onapplication, and the Book of Plays will be loaned tochapters desiring to givedramaticen-tertainments. See last League page. FORGIVENESS. JOSEPHINE WHITBECK (AGE io). {Silver Badge.) Forgive me, little doggie,Forgive me, doggie, do ;Last night in a dreadful temperI thoughtlessly hit you. I did not mean to hurt you,Although I know I did ;You thought you had displeasedmeAnd ran away and hid. Yes, my little master, What you said is true ;You hurt me very badly,But I 11 forgive it you. You re very, very good to me —I love you, little Joe,And since you will not hurt me,We 11 be happy now, I know. MY BEST FRIEND. BY MILDRED WHEAT, AGE 17 (A FORMER PRIZE-WINNER.) A FAMILY TRADITION. BY HELEN M. PRICHARD (AGE II). It was baking-day, and the morn-ing of June 17, 1775. Mrs. Smithha
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Keywords: ., bookauthordodgemar, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1873
