CARYL’S PLUM.

Maum Patty was droning away in the kitchen
some old Methodist hymns. Viny was dimly con-
scious of a faint call from the invalid’s room as she
drew out in the utmost delight, an old-fashioned
brooch with a green centre around which were some
little sparkling things. :

She couldn’t even say “Jiminy!” but simply held
‘the pretty thing which seemed glad of its freedom
from solitary confinement, and thus delighted to
sparkle more than ever in its resting-place in the little
dlack hand. With trembling fingers she fastened it
into the centre of the lace spenser, above her naughty
little bosom, hurrying to the glass to do so, and had
just taken one look, when a low cry of
distress struck upon her ear.

It filled her whole soul with dismay,

_ rooting her like a little frozen thing to
the spot. It was Miss Sylvia, she knew.

With one mighty effort she tore her-

' self from the spot, and rushed headlong
into the hall, “Oh—oh—ok/” came
from the invalid’s room.

At that Viny wrung her hands and
writhed in dire distress.

“* She’s a-dyin’!”’ she gasped, her knees
knocking together in a lively manner;
“T don’t darst to look —I don’t!—
Uve killed her!” And the whole flood
_ of remorse sweeping her very soul, she

‘turned and scuttled down the crooked -
little stairs and into the street,

“A doctor!” was all her thought. She
remembered hearing Caryl say he lived
in a big brown house that had lots of
flowers in the windows, But where upon
the face of the earth the house was
situated, Viny knew no more than a bird.
However, she must get him, so she
dashed blindly on, turning the first cor-
ner to run headlong into the arms of a
portly old lady who was placidly enjoy-
ing the fresh air and sunshine at the
same time that she displayed her rich
street attire.

“Oh, my goodness!” cried the old lady, startled
out of all fine speeches by the coilision, and jumping
in fright to the extreme edge of the curbstone. Then
seeing the cause, she cried in anger, “You misera-
ble, dirty little thing you, you’ve nearly killed me!”

At the word “killed,” Viny began to dance in

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

209

terror on the sidewalk. “TI know it,” she cried, “oh
dear, I know it! she’s dead, an’ grandma ’ll beat
me.”

“ And if you don’t know any better,” cried the old
lady, vainly trying to settle her gray puffs as they
were before, “than to run into people in this way,
Pll have you arrested, I will!”

At this, Viny was completely overcome. Her guilty
conscience pictured all sorts of punishments; worse,
far worse, than “ grandma’s ” judgements, and, fall-
ing on her knees, she grasped the old lady’s black
satin gown and implored for mercy,

The old lady, now her attention was drawn off from

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“HE SHUCK IT, AN’ SHUCK IT!”

her own annoyance, settled her eyes on the brooch
half concealed by a fold of the little lace spenser.
“You wicked, bad child!” she exclaimed, seizing
her arm and pouncing one stifly gloved hand on the
sparkling brooch; “you’ve stolen that! It’s bad
enough to be run into by a dirty little thing fresh