114 HELENA.

without my darling babies. This is my favorite,” she said,
taking up her largest one. “She came all the way from Paris —
in mamma’s trunk.” .

“T like that one best,” returned the little girl, pointing to
one much less showy.

“Do you?” asked Helena. “Her name is Grace; she
isn’t half as pretty as Marguerite.”

“T like her,” persisted the child, whether from a real fancy
or from contrariness Helena could not tell.

They soon became quite merry over the feast, and Helena’s
mother from her window watched them playing’ happily.
together, unconscious of any difference of station.

When it was time for Helena to go in, her little friend
helped her to put away the dishes and carry the dolls to the
porch; then she was about to turn regretfully away, when
Helena called her back.

“ Nancy !” she called,—for the little girl had said that was
her name,—“ Nancy, here!” And she ran forward with the
doll Grace and a big orange in her hand. She thrust them
into Nancy’s hands. The child at first could not understand
that they were for her very own. “They are yours,” said
Helena. “TI want you to have Grace.”

“Mine? all mine?” exclaimed Nancy, delightedly.

“Yes, all yours. Take them, for mamma is calling me. -
~ Come again, Nancy, and bring Grace, and we will have some
more plays.” And the little girls parted.