THE LOST PENKWNIFE.

Ca )ICHARD ROSS was going home from school one day

') when he saw a handsome penknife lying on the ground.

Now, a knife was of all things just what Richard wanted,

and the sight of this one made his heart jump for joy.

He caught it up eagerly, pulled open the bright blade, and
feasted his eyes on the white pearl handle and shining steel.

“T’m a lucky fellow,” he said to himself, and then he started
for home at a full run to tell his brother and sister of his good
luck and show his beautiful knife.

“JT wonder who could have lost it?” said brother Charley.

“Tt’s more than I know, or care either,’ replied Richard.
“ Finding is keeping.”

“Suppose you had lost it?” said grave brother Charley.

“Oh, bother!” answered Richard, with some impatience.
Charley’s suggestion had. fallen like a wet blanket, as we say
sometimes, on Richard’s self-satisfaction.

“Somebody must have lost it,” said Charley.

“ Maybe it was Mr. Ellis,” suggested sister Marion. “I saw
him going down the road half an hour ago.”

“T don’t believe it’s his knife,” spoke out Richard, who was
not feeling quite as comfortable as when he came in.

“Td ask him if I were you,” said Charley.

Richard made no reply to this suggestion. Suppose he
should ask Mr. Ellis if it was his knife, and he should say yes?
He would of course have to give it up. The thought was any-
thing but agreeable.

“Suppose,” said Charley, looking up from his book that
evening as they sat round a table studying their lessons, “ you
had lost that knife, Richard.”

“Why can’t you let the knife rest ?” answered Richard, half
angrily. “It’s no concern of yours.”

“But I can’t help feeling sorry for the person who lost it,”

154