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clear pale face, and kindly, very nearsighted eyes.

He had been reading as he walked and did not at
first recognize in this gay apparition his small friend
Bobette;, but there was no mistaking her merry laugh.
After a few explanations, Bobette slipped her hand
into his, and they walked gravely away together to
the rectory.

Bobette established herself in a deep arm-chair by
the table, and looked over the great illustrated Don
Quixote for the fiftieth time, while Mr. Abert was
writing.

“Come, now, Bobette,” said he, when at last his
letters were sealed and stamped, “let us go out, for I

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOBETTE.

“ And now it is over three years!” said the rector
absently, after a pause.

“Yes, three years,” repeated Bobette; “I cannot
do it any more years. You don’t know, so you think
me a very naughty girl. But see how it is. This
morning, when I was fast asleep in the dark, mamma
came into my room and said it was dear papa’s day,
and I must jump up quick and not wait for Betsey.
And my bath was so cold it frightened me awake.
Mamma was crying, and that made her pull my hair
and tangle it with the comb. Then the chapel was
so dark and lonely! While I knelt there beside
mamma, I saw a wee fairy, all in white, playing under

 

“MAN,” SHE CALLED SUDDENLY, “COME BACK!”

think the sun is going to shine. How is mamma
to-day?”

“Oh, mamma” — the child began doubtfully; “you
know this is a very bad day for us. Mamma is not
ever well on this day.”

“Not well?” Mr. Abert repeated, stopping short at
the garden gate. “Perhaps I had better step up
and see her?” f

“Oh, no!” cried Bobette ; “don’t you know what
day this is?”

The rector looked puzzled: “This is Thursday, I
believe.”

“ Ah,” said Bobette, shaking her head impatiently,
“it’s papa’s death’s day— the day when he didn’t
come home. I hate it!” the child cried passionately ;
“TY wish papa had not gone away! I do!”

the curtain at the door, and when mamma prayed
that papa would come home again, and not be dead,
I screamed, because then the fairy became a ghost.
Betsey said it would come if I did the least wrong
thing. That frightened mamma, and I had to eat my
bread and milk alone, because we must fast all to-day.”

“But did you pray too, Bobette?” asked the rec-
tor, looking thoughtfully at the child.

“Yes; I prayed God to please bless papa, and
take good care of him if he is alive, and if he is in
Heaven to please make us forget about him and not
be sad any more. Mamma read prayers in the chapel
with Betsey and Anthony too—then she fainted
away, so we stopped.”

Bobette wound up her lengthy recital in the most
matter-of-fact tone.