Fob's Picture-Gallery. 109

“ All the same, I should like my present,” said Job. “When
well the Fairy of the Cascade come?”

“You must not be so impatient,” rejoined the Angora cat.
She had shown her good-breeding by turning her back on the
mouse’s hole, and behaving as if she had forgotten all about
it, although the mouse’s nose did look tempting.
~“ What do you suppose the gift is?” asked Queen Puff.

“T can’t guess,” said Job, staring at the fire with bright eyes,
and nursing his knee. “Is it a top?”

“ No.”

“A ship?”

“ No.”

“Oh, oh !—A kite?”

-aOe

Something very odd happened. After his circus pranks with
the mouse Nip had been flying around the room. At last he
came to Job’s picture-gallery. Now I suppose you imagine that
Job was too poor to have a picture-gallery; but he owned a
very good one. The previous summer he had stood by the
roadside when a Mountain House coach came down the hill,
crowded with people, and a golden-haired little girl nodded to
Job in a friendly way—* Would you like a paper, boy?”

Before he could reply the golden head vanished, the coach
lumbered on, and he held a “ Harper’s Weekly” in his hand.
What delight the pages afforded simple Job! He ran home
and cut out the pictures with Grandfather’s shears, then fast-
ened them on the wall with large crooked pins. There were
four big prints, and ever so many little ones, which afforded a
good variety for a gallery. Here was a queer old negro mend-