222 4 BIT OF

Yet could it be mamma who sprang out so lightly? .

There was no widow’s cap hiding golden hair; noth-
ing but a shawl she had caught up in haste, and there
was the color of wild.roses on her cheeks.

“Bobette, darling, how did you get down?
you hurt?” a torrent of questions came.

Still Bobette, huddling under the rosy silk, was
speechless. Her mother fell on her knees and put
her arms close round her child. “ Bobette,” she whis-
pered, “ Bobette, God had heard our prayers—he has
come!”

“Papa?” cried the child; then the strange dull
pain swept over her, and her eyelids drooped.

All that night lights burned in Gillespie’s Tower.
Little Bobette’s broken ankle had been set by her
papa’s own dexterous hand, and she was now, at last,
sleeping fitfully.

Are

MENDING,

Mr. Abert had waited until he was sure that his
little friend was safe, then he stood a moment longer
with old Betsey at the lower gate. She had been
all the afternoon longing for a listener to whom she
could free her mind. in 8

“Yes, it’s all come out right,” she admitted, “ but,
as I was about to say, I never really thought he was
drowned dead—and no more he wasn’t. He do
say he was shipwrecked on a desert island, and all
that. It’s mighty queer if it zs true, and she’s nearly
worried her life out, appointing a day to weep and
mourn on, for to be his death-day, which she couldn’t
have certainly known to be right, anyway, you know,
And that Bobette did need a father over her, if ever
a child did!”

But finding that Mr. Abert was out of hearing, old
Betsey closed and bolted the door.

 

 

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