UNOPENED PARCELS, 103

Oh the shame that mixed with the joy of that
moment! I ran across the rug, hid my face
against my father, and cried. I begged his pardon,
and grandmamma’s too; but my father would
only laugh. “Only mind, Honor,” said he, “ that
you never again distrust an unopened parcel, when
you know the hand it comes from.” And I pro-
mised I never would ; for in one’s youth one does
not know how hard some promises are to keep.

But this was not all. When, according to cus-
tom, we had taken nurse her parcel (grandmamma
forgot nobody), and had shown her our own, the
one-she was most of all struck with was my glove-
walnut. Toys and books of every conceivable
sort, size, and beauty she had seen again and again ;
but, as it so happened, a walnut with gloves in-
side—never! She put on her spectacles to ex-
amine it, and her exclamations were endless.

“Tt’s wonderful, Miss, it’s wonderful! If it
wasn’t that seeing is believing, I couldn’t believe
it,—I really couldn’t!” My respect for the gloves
and the walnut rose higher and higher. I sat with
it on my lap all tea-time, and when I went to kiss