MADGE’S MISTAKE.

CHAPTER I.

CUT ROSES.

{ HE fact is, it is quite time Madge

| went to school. She was twelve
SH, years old yesterday, and her sisters,
ZZ

   

or at all events some of them, were
sent when younger than she is.”
So says my aunt.

The state of the case is this. I have been
distinguishing myself as usual, and am now
standing beside Mother's sofa, looking down
ruefully at a large bunch of roses (many of
them newly blown) which I have just been
cutting in the hot-house with a slashing
pair of scissors (Aunt’s cutting-out scis-