130 Lom Seven Years Old.

oe ne ee et

he knew they were there, and called out,
“Violets, violets!” Tom was always glad
when they appeared. He admired the snow-
drops white face and the primrose’s yellow
one very much, but he loved the violets
more; and through the winters, when he
could not see them, he used to remember
which were the places under the hedges
where they were lying waiting in the ground,
that he might be ready to watch for them.

“Mamma!” he said, one morning, not long
after their return; “don’t you think old Ben-
jamin would like to see the violets once again
before he goes? Hecan’t go tothem; but I
could carry some to him, couldn’t I ?”

“Tt would be very nice,” said she.

“T'll get Archie to help me!” cried Tom:
“because he is more clever at finding them
than I am—they hide so well. I’ve got a
basket to hold them.”

“And [ll give you another for Archie,”
said his mamma.

She unlocked the store-room, and took one
down from the top shelf. It was a little