SAT THE GATE .

ve)

“WHEN will dear father come? Me so tired of waiting, Sissy, dear,and me do want my
supper!” lisped a rosy-faced little maiden of five years old, seated one lovely summer
evening on the gate leading (as you will see by the picture) to their sunny home-
stead—a real picture of a genuine farmhouse, beautifully situated in a grassy dell, with a
tiny stream (the delight of the children) trickling through it a few yards from the house.

“Don’t be impatient, Rosie, dear,” answered the older sister who was standing by her.
“The longer you wait the more
you will enjoy your supper when
you get it; and see, darling,” she
continued, shading her eyes with
her hand as she looked down the
glade, “see, here comes father, so
jump down and let us run and
meet him.”

With these words she helped
the child to spring down from the
gate, and hand in hand they ran
as fast as little Rosie’s fat legs
allowed of towards their father, who hurried to
meet his children as soon as he observed them
approaching, and with a kiss for the elder, sprang
his little pet off the ground to his shoulder,
and hastened homewards. To Rosie’s delight,
a plentiful supper of home-made bread and
butter, new-laid eggs, and bowls of milk, spread on the whitest of table-cloths, was awaiting
them, and the mother, who had also been on the look-out for some time past, now devoted
herself to satisfying their wants, especially those of the hungry little child.

“What has so delayed you, father, dear?” she at last questioned the good man of the
house. “TI began to think you were lost.”

 

   

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