88 Lom Seven Years Old.

 

She unwrapped the paper, and drew out
the vase. It really did look beautiful.

“Oh, Tom, how pretty!” she cried. “Is
it for me ?”

“Yes,” said Tom; “I’ve bought it, and
now I’ve given it to you. So it’s yours, and
nobody else’s. Do you like it a little, or very
much ?”

“Very much indeed,” said she, kissing
him; and Tom saw by her face that she
did.

“Well, then, I'll tell you,” said he, going
near to her. “I saw something else that I
think you would have liked better.”

“1 don’t think you did, Tom,” said she.

“Yes,” said Tom; “and I couldn’t carry
it away, it was so heavy.”

“What could it have been ?” said she.

“You've got one upstairs!” cried Tom:
“only uglier, of course, because it wasn’t a
present. nd it’s white all over, on a table
with a marble top. Now you’must have
guessed 1”

“ Not in the least,” said his mamma.