8 A YEAR WITH NELLIE.

Harry with his arm stretched round his sister's
waist, she with her hand laid on his shoulder.

“Nellie,” the boy began suddenly, after turn-
ing something over in his mind, “why didn’t
you tell her you know where her cat is?”

Nellie’s cheeks grew rosier than usual.

“She didn’t ask me,” she answered. ,

“T thought she meant us all,” said the child.
“T was just going to tell when you stopped me.”

“What is the use of telling her when it’s
dead?” his sister asked.

“Why, I should think she’d like to know.
Shall we go and take it to her? Then you'll
get the book.”

Nellie shook her hand.

“Look here, Harry, Pll tell you why not, if
you won't say a word to anyone. Promise me
you'll keep it a secret.”

“Yes, I will,” said the little fellow readily.
“T promise I won’t tell.”

“Well, then, the wood where we saw the
dead cat is private, and when we came out I
saw a board that said, ‘Trespassers will be pro-
secuted.’ We might get into trouble or be sent
to prison if people knew we had been there.
Of course,” Nellie went on, looking very pink